The Instruments of Change
by Cherry Chimchim
Summary: A series of short stories exploring the lives and adventures of those living in a time of magic, danger and change. Based on the characters and progression of a continuing D&D campaign.
1. Introduction

**Chapter Outline**

 **On Caring Too Much:** Sometimes we know full well that caring hurts, but we still do it anyway.

 **Tears:** Keeping things together is hard.

 **My Hands are Not Clean Either:** Some mistakes leave a wound so deep that no amount of healing can fix.

 **Mother's Spitting Image:** A moment of respite to think about what we have in front of us now.

 **The Lyre:** Sometimes a single moment can be the moment of a lifetime.

 **Erelias Theradin Part 1:** What's a bard to do when he finds himself in a random town? He plays a song and keeps an eye out for little things.

 **Erelias Theradin Part 2:** What's a bard to do when he finds a little thing in his path? He has it play a song and then he keeps it.

 **The Raging Storm Inside:** Sometimes people get hurt no matter what we do.

 **Vocabulary (Blackmoon):** When your name gets butchered by your baby sister.

 **Forgive and Forget (Blackmoon):** Ignorance is bliss. If it can keep that smile on her face then it's worth it.

 **Who I Could Have Been:** Who are we without our memories?

 **The Light in the Dark (Blackmoon):** Sometimes when you are at your lowest, all you need is a reminder that you are not alone.

 **A Flower for Your Thoughts:** Our minds know some things are bigger than family. But our hearts know family are the ones who stay with us in the end.

 **The Choices We Make:** Sometimes no matter how much we love someone, our choices pull us away from each other.

 **The Stories Never Told** : Everyday we meet heroes whose stories we will never know.

 **Made of Love** : In the gardens brought to ruin by the passage of time, only remnants of the past remain.

* * *

 **This is a set of short stories centred around a character of mine in a D &D campaign I played in. Our party was the Company of Kulak, and our adventure mostly followed the Tomb of Annihilation module, with several homebrew elements. This campaign will be continued soon with all homebrew content. These short stories are mainly a chance for me to practise writing and to develop the background for my character. Various styles and perspectives will be used, and reviews/feedback are greatly welcomed. Updates will come whenever I find time and inspiration, but the story will always be labelled as "complete". The entire campaign is long, and these stories will not be in chronological order, so I will put a little contextual information at the beginning of each story. The setting begins with the players being tasked to end the Death Curse, some magical effect that is preventing resurrection and causing those who have been resurrected to slowly experience their second death. **

**Update:**

 **Stories will now also include characters and events from the shorter transition campaign Blackmoon Tales, which takes place after the end of the Company of Kulak. This campaign follows the adventures of several children living in the elven city of Hal-Sharam as they become caught up in the events of their rapidly changing world. The setting opens with the death of the previous elven Matriarch and news of the massacre at Hal-Rashaad. A new Matriarch is to be selected and a contestant from each of the elven subraces are competing in the tournaments. Features cameo appearances of the Company of Kulak and sets the stage for our current campaign.**

 **Please note that in this setting, there are three elven goddesses split from the original elven god Hal. Selune, the goddess of the Moon, arts and perfection. Mithira, the goddess of the wilds and independence. Lolth, the goddess of ambition, emotion and strength.**

* * *

 **Dramatis Personae (Will be updated as characters are introduced)**

The Company of Kulak (Player Characters)

 **Kulak One-Eye** : A goblin rogue/druid after whom the Company is named. The co-chairman with a keen eye for business and finance.

 **Hanae "Carmentia" Silverthorn** : A half-drow bard/cleric, also co-chairman of the Company. Kind and forgiving, she struggles to keep to her ideal of pacifism. Much of the stories will explore her life and experiences. (The character I played as)

 **Torrin Yarjerit** : A dragonborn paladin seeking the power needed to protect and avenge his clan.

 **Kanunu "Wartortle" Zah'rok (later NPC)** : A tortle sorcerer whose destiny is tied to the Great Storm.

 **Aulera** : A tiefling ranger who hails from the legendary fallen city of Thultanthar.

 **Valerius** : A high elf monk who seeks to forget the tragedy that has befallen his monastery.

 **"Frosty"** : A goliath paladin, the lone survivor of a clan taken over by the mind-flayers.

 **Rat** : An orphaned kenku rogue/warlock, who was not expecting the mess they had been dragged into when they joined the Company as a chef.

Other Characters

 **Xandala (NPC)** : A half-elven sorceress with lofty ambitions. Becomes Torrin's fiancée.

 **Melina Silverthorn** : Carmentia's mother, a medicinal healer.

 **Erelias Theradin** : A mysterious bard of the Feywild.

 **Ishmael (NPC)** : A charismatic and extremely wealthy drow. Gave the Company his patronage when they met in Nangalore. (Also appears in Blackmoon Tales)

 **Evelyn Silverose Brightfyre (NPC, later PC)** : A human eldritch knight seeking to forge her own path of fame and renown. Darriamus' niece. (Also appears in Blackmoon Tales)

 **Darriamus Brightfyre (NPC)** : A human cavalier, a bumbling old gentleman in search of his adventuring party, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen them. Evelyn's uncle.

 **Mirgallidan (NPC)** : An eladrin sorcerer. Darriamus' companion. Succumbs to the Death Curse.

 **Tiktok (NPC)** : A Kenku warlock. Darriamus' companion. Succumbs to the Death Curse.

 **TimTim (NPC)** : Kanunu's brother. A gentle scholarly tortle. (Also appears in Blackmoon Tales)

 **Na (NPC)** : The little prince of Chult (currently king). Was hidden in the aarakocra village Kir Sabal with his older sister Mwaxanare. An explosion was set off in their home. He was saved by Carmentia, but Mwaxanare was killed.

The Crew

A ragtag group of twenty individuals who came into the service of the Company under magical contract.

 **Cianna Lastkill (NPC)** : A drider. The leader of the Crew.

 **Blood and Drown (NPCs)** : Two merrow. Drown is second in charge.

(And many more. Will be added to as they appear in the stories.)

Blackmoon Tales

 **Elyria Liadon of Leyeth (PC, age 15), aka Eli** : An eladrin eldritch knight. Fiery and independent, she strives to prove her worth as a fighter. And despite her strained relationship with her family, she still cares for them very much.

 **Adyra (PC, age 16), aka Adi** : A wood elf druid. Gentle and quiet, though disillusioned with the gods, he does everything he can to help out his adoptive mother.

 **Yubel, technically Ori (PC, age 14), aka Red BelBel** : A tiefling wild magic sorcerer. A slave in all but name to the inventor Yuven, he has recently arrived in Hal-Sharam with his master after escaping the massacre at the elven city of Hal-Rashaad.

 **Belthar Nasheem (PC, age 14), aka Other BelBel** : A half-elf wizard from the school of divination. A staunch supporter of using the shunned magic school of necromancy, he has pledged himself to the apprenticeship of the illithid Ulthas.

 **Akshi Amanodel (PC, age 8)** : An aasimar divine soul sorcerer of the goddess Selune. A child of sparkles and rainbows, she wants nothing more than to have fun and make lots of friends. Daniir's little sister. (The character I played as)

 **Daniir Amanodel (NPC), aka DanDan** : A high elf paladin. Akshi's older brother. Loves his little sister dearly.

 **Vaneira (NPC)** : The wood elf matriarch contestant. Attempted to build a machine that would summon a solar for Hal-Sharam as her gift to the city.

 **Thariel (NPC)** : The high elf matriarch contestant. Built the Mage Eye as her gift to the city, a device that grants limited omniscience.

 **Vashenya (NPC)** : The drow matriarch contestant. Built the Panharmonicon as her gift to the city, an instrument that brings happiness and love with the music it plays. Ishmael's daughter.

 **Selindra (NPC)** : The eladrin matriarch contestant. Did not have the opportunity to present her gift.

 **Barley (NPC)** : A dwarf working for Ishmael. Having been outcast from his home, he longs to return to his clan and family.

* * *

 **Please leave a review or PM me if you have any questions.**

 **A warning for spoilers for the Tomb of Annihilation.**


	2. On Caring Too Much

**The Company of Kulak have heard word of a set of powerful and dangerous artifacts known as the Tears of Tyranny in Chult. After several encounters, they found a green orb, one of the Tears, in the Aarakocra village of Kir Sabal, which had supposedly corrupted the mind of a white dragon and caused the decimation of a tribe of lizardfolk. Xandala, after taking possession of the orb, created an explosion to remove evidence, in which the Chultan princess Mwaxanare was killed. The Company (minus Carmentia and Valerius) confronted Xandala about the Tear, but after she severely injured Kulak and Aulera, Torrin, ignoring Carmentia's pleas and warnings, accepted a deal, where he would agree to marry Xandala in return for possession of the green orb. Carmentia's thoughts on these events follows.**

* * *

On Caring Too Much

I don't know what happened, but I know she hurt them, Kulak and Aulera at least. I was wary of Xandala from the beginning, but even then, I didn't think she would be so…needlessly cruel. I know I'm in no position to judge, but I feel the Tear did something to her. And after what she said to me… What scares me most is not people's anger or hatred, but their indifference. How do you persuade someone who simply doesn't care? I think at this point, I'm sure that Xandala had something to do with the explosion, but I have no proof, and I don't know why. I… feel guilty for Mwaxanare's death. If I hadn't put her to sleep… maybe she could have made it out. I wish Kulak and Aulera would tell me what happened… but I am almost afraid to find out the truth. I think in my heart I already know the answer.

It was stupid and selfish of me to think that they might care for me as much as I care for them. But… I really thought that maybe I… I really thought they were getting better. And after everything we've been through, it hurts that they still don't trust me, that they would lie to my face… that they would stand by and do nothing when I hurt. I know… I probably brought this on myself… caring for people whom I know would only hurt me in the end. Is it ironic that my greatest flaw is the only thing that has kept me going all these years? I am grateful that Valerius is here with me, but there is only so much he can do. I don't want to hurt… I don't want anyone else to get hurt. I shouldn't have involved him. I know it's awful… but I'm kind of relieved that I don't have to solve this problem alone. I don't blame Kanunu for what happened. He's always been curious. I just hope he will be alright. He seems okay at the moment, but I don't know enough to tell if he's been affected. I doubt he would tell me even so…

I… I don't know what to do. I'm terrified that they'll be hurt… I'm terrified that I might not be able to do anything to save them. I know so little about the Tears of Tyranny, but the warnings we've heard constantly ring in my mind. And I know that a power that big comes with a bigger expense. I don't believe Torrin doesn't understand the risks. He usually sticks so strictly with the traditions of his people, the fact that he is willing to forego that… he must really believe the Tears of Tyranny can give him what he wants. I think… in a way I understand. I may not know what it feels like to be loyal to a clan, but I know what it feels like to want to protect the people you care about. I just worry the price he'll have to pay may be more than he can give…


	3. Tears

**The Company travelled to Nangalore to complete a mission. On the journey, Valerius and Carmentia wrestled the green Tear from Torrin to prevent him from exposing his mind to it. Carmentia managed to persuade Torrin to allow Valerius to hold onto the orb until they learnt more about it and how to utilise it safely. The Company also met a mysterious individual named Ishmael, who possessed a rainbow Tear of Tyranny. This Tear's influence however was more benign, promoting feelings of love. The Company then returned to Kir Sabal. The green Tear, carried by Valerius, charmed him into communing with it, after which he emerged greatly injured from the ordeal. Xandala, after finding out what happened to the Tear, reprimanded Torrin for his passivity and demanded he take it back.**

* * *

Tears

Torrin stormed into the hall and went straight to business. The party's packs all leaned against the wall, and he began picking through them, tossing Kulak's leaf-filled sack aside, kicking Aulera's out of the way. That elf's bag had to be in here somewhere. Where was it? His eyes scanned the room. Aarakocra milled about. His fiancée was lounging on a reclined chair on the other side of the doorway, her hair flashing gold in the fire, refusing to acknowledge his existence. Curiously Wartortle sat close by, and there was Aulera by the fire, polishing her bow. Then he saw, by the far end of the room, the two elven-blooded ones sitting on a low wooden bench. Through the flickering flames, he watched the half-human's lips move in silent song as her hand glowed gently with healing magic. But then his attention was seized by the plain pack next to the monk.

Carmentia finished the final note of her spell and removed her hand from its place on Valerius' shoulder. She checked him over again.

"Better?"

"I am sorry. Please forgive me for not being strong enough to resist."

She gave him a gentle smile. "It's alright. There's nothing to forgive."

She felt a glint of anger in the periphery and turned. Valerius followed her line of sight, directly meeting Torrin's livid gaze.

A quick glance around revealed the mess of bags strewn all over the floor. Torrin dropped the bag he had been holding and advanced towards them, intent clear in his eyes.

"Carmen…" Valerius began, but Carmentia stood up without a word and moved in front of him, putting herself between him and Torrin. The dragonborn towered over her, yet she did not falter.

She spoke, words controlled and neutral. "What is it, Torrin?"

"Give me the orb."

Her sigh was quiet, tired. "Torrin, we talked about this."

"I just need it for one night."

"Why?"

He bristled. "That is classified information."

Carmentia studied him for a moment. "Did Xandala put you up to this?"

He paused. "Maybe."

That told her all she needed to know.

When she didn't respond, Torrin growled. "Will you give me the orb or not?"

She pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head.

"Hey!"

It seemed Kulak had snuck up behind them to take the orb for himself and lunged for it. Valerius struggled as he batted at the goblin, trying to keep him at bay. Torrin saw his opportunity. He shoved Carmentia out of the way and made a grab for the bag. But before he could, he was struck from behind and ensnaring vines erupted around him, biting into his scales. He strained against them, but he was bound tight. He reached for the bag again. But Valerius was faster. The bag was yanked away as his claws came within a mere hairsbreadth of the fabric. Torrin roared in frustration. He turned just in time to see Aulera smirk at him before a giant claw came whipping down onto her head. Apparently Wartortle had also joined the fighting fray. Sadly, the tiefling darted out of the way and the claw slammed into the ground. Her bow was notched in seconds as Kanunu prepared another magical attack.

"Everyone, stop fighting!"

Torrin felt a wave of calm wash over him against his will, and despite his efforts, he felt his anger begin to fade.

Carmentia stood with her arms outstretched, bruised and palms scraped from hitting the ground. As she slowly lowered them, she whispered again, "Please, just stop fighting."

Aulera lowered her bow but was clearly still tense and on guard.

Kanunu coughed, "Uh, sorry Aulera, I don't know what came over me…" and awkwardly shuffled off.

Kulak had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared and was now prancing about the fire, tossing… dried petals… into the air. Seeing this, Aulera moved back to her original seat, but kept an eye on the three remaining.

With the situation temporarily diffused, but tension still high, Carmentia moved to Torrin and began pulling at the vines he was still ensnared in. They wilted as he shrugged them off. He was calm, for now, but still greatly displeased.

"I want the orb." He emphasised again.

Carmentia seemed to be debating with herself, looking over at Valerius.

To her unsure, questioning look, he tentatively replied, "I think we should try to reach some compromise."

After some thought, she took a deep breath and turned to Torrin. "Okay, I'm going to talk to Xandala, and maybe we can figure something out."

Torrin watched as the little half-human made her way over to his fiancée.

As she came closer, Carmentia noted that the sorceress was reclining on one of the Aarakocra prayer tables, which she had repurposed as a couch.

Xandala rolled her eyes with irritation as she approached. "What do you want?"

Carmentia took a moment to compose herself and began, "Look, I understand that you want Torrin to have the orb, and I have learnt some more about it now. I… understand that the Tears of Tyranny are not necessarily entirely… bad but I think we should still be careful about th-"

Xandala cut her off. "I'm just going to stop you right there, darling. You know, I couldn't help but notice then how Torrin just, pushed you aside. And quite frankly, darling, I don't care about what you have to say. I know you're trying to be reasonable, but you are getting in the way of my fiancée's life, and by extension, my life. So let me make this clear. You either give my fiancée the orb, which is rightfully his, or I'll make you. I wonder, who do you think he appreciates more? His beautiful, soon-to-be wife, or this annoying dark-elf woman he just pushed to the ground? Hmm?"

Carmentia was silent. Xandala got up and made her way to Torrin. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and then left. After a moment, Carmentia returned to her waiting party members. Before Torrin could ask what happened, without a word she began healing the puncture wounds the thorns had left in him. As the last of his injuries faded he asked, "What did Xandala say to you?"

She didn't respond.

"What did she say?"

She remained silent.

"Tell me!" he growled, catching the hand that was checking him over for more wounds by the wrist.

She looked away, and still, said nothing.

Torrin's patience was running dry. He issued his ultimatum. "If you do not give me the orb, then I shan't consider us friends anymore."

Carmentia flinched slightly, his words slicing across her heart. Ever so slowly, she met his eyes.

"Do you care about me at all?"

Torrin was taken aback by the question. His grip loosened, and Carmentia cradled her arm to her chest. After a moment, he replied.

"Not as much as I care about Xandala."

Understanding, but also hurt echoed in her eyes. She dropped her gaze and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Torrin left without another word.

Carmentia watched him go. Even if it meant he would hate her after, she couldn't let him destroy himself like this. In that moment, she had made her decision. She only hoped it was the right one.


	4. My Hands are Not Clean Either

**Carmentia reflects on the day everything went wrong. These events take place when she is about 10 years old.**

* * *

My Hands are Not Clean Either

We had arrived in the town about a week ago, Mother managed to find a place to rent on the outskirts for eight gold a fortnight. It was her hope that we could stay for a bit longer there, several months, maybe even a year. But we had to be careful. I had to be careful. I couldn't let them find out what I was. That was the first day I dared to go outside. Mother dyed my hair again and covered up my skin with the special paints. I was worried about playing with the other children, but Mother had only smiled at me and told me to have fun. I was uneasy, but the group of children I met accepted me quickly and were happy to let me join in. They were curious about me, and asked many questions, but I remembered what Mother told me to say and they were satisfied.

We played all day, I was happy, and for those few hours I forgot to be afraid. But the day was warm, and in the late afternoon the children all decided to head down to the nearby lake. I went with them, and as they all jumped into the cool, refreshing water one-by-one, so did I. I emerged from the water laughing, wiping the water from my eyes. But the girl next to me took one look at me and screamed. It was then that I noticed the paint dissolving in the water around me, and the red dye dripping off the ends of my hair. I tried to reassure them that I meant no harm, but they all ran before I had a chance to speak. I cried there, for too long, but finally I climbed out of the lake and tried to make my way back home, at least where home was then.

Word travels fast though, especially where Drow are concerned. Some older boys had found me and cornered me in an alley. It was just pushing and shoving at first, and when they saw that I didn't fight back, it became blows and kicks that rained down on me. I begged them to stop, for someone, anyone, to help me, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. I tried to run but they just threw me to the ground. And then one of the boys pulled out a knife. I was scared before, but then I was truly terrified.

I fought back. I tackled the boy with the knife. He mustn't have been expecting any resistance, so my sudden attack caught him off guard and I managed to knock him down. The knife fell out of his hand and clattered onto the ground. I picked it up and swung blindly. I don't know what I was trying to do. I don't know if I was just trying to scare them off, or if I really did want to hurt them. I was afraid, and angry, and I just wanted it to stop. I hit one of the boys closest to me. He hadn't hit me earlier. He had just been standing and watching by the side. The knife ripped open a jagged gash in his throat. People had called me a monster before, but that was the first time I felt like one. The others were gone in a flash, and I stood there, horrified at what I had done. I dropped the knife and tried to hold the wound closed, to just stop the bleeding somehow. He fought me every step of the way. I whispered apologies to him and begged for forgiveness in-between the words of healing I tried to invoke, but there was only terror in his eyes. There was so much blood. I couldn't stop it.

In my panic, I could only think of one person who could make everything right, Mother. I dashed back to the little hut we were living in. She was startled when I ran in, half-covered with blood, yet still the first thing she did was check if I was hurt. I tried to explain to her what happened, what I had done. I was crying and gasping for breath, but she somehow understood. She didn't lash out at me, or even reprimand me, just told me to get cleaned and patched up in that calm way of hers and to pack up everything and be ready to leave. She asked me where the boy was, and after I told her, she picked up her medicine chest and hurried out. I did what she told me, threw my torn and bloodied dress in the fire and packed everything back into our two backpacks. We had few possessions. I spent much longer trying to wash the blood from my hands, but even after going through two tubs of water, I could still feel it clinging to me. After I finished packing, I waited for her to come back. Seconds felt like hours. I don't know how long I waited, but I was restless and terrified.

In a split-second moment I decided to go find Mother, maybe help her if I could, and by some strange, inexplicable reason I thought to take my lyre with me. It was dark then, but when I returned to the entrance of the alley, there were torches blazing and both anger and fear permeating the air. The townspeople surrounded Mother, and though she looked to be trying to calm them down, it wasn't working. One of the people struck her, and stupidly I cried out. Many of them noticed me then, and it enraged them even more. My Mother screamed at me to run before a spear rammed through her and the people began charging at me.

I ran, and by some miracle I escaped. That was the last time I heard my name spoken.


	5. Mother's Spitting Image

**A gentle winter's evening. Melina contemplates her and her daughter's future.**

* * *

Mother's Spitting Image

It was a quiet winter evening. Only the soft crackling and popping of wood in the fireplace disturbed the peace. There, a few metres away, mother and daughter sat on the floor before the source of warmth. One with hair as bright as the fire before them, and one with hair as white as the snow outside. Melina sighed as she leaned back on her packed bags, her daughter curled up beside her with her head resting in her lap. There were so many things to worry about. Moving to a new place and new home, finding work, getting food, taking care of Hanae, but right now it was peaceful and everything was alright.

Her fingers gently brushed through Hanae's silvery-white curls, and not for the first time, she wished her daughter looked more like her. She had her features, the same shape of face, nose, mouth, she would grow up to be a beautiful girl someday. But, the tips of her ears, the colour of her hair, her skin, that was all from _him_. They had been covering it up with dyes and paints, but… she only hoped she could see her girl grow up. Being a half-anything among humans was already difficult, being a half-drow was practically a death sentence. The world didn't care that Hanae was the sweetest little thing, that only made it easier for them to tear her apart.

"Mother, can I ask you something?"

That clear voice brought Melina out of her thoughts.

"Of course, sweetheart."

"Who was father?"

Her hand stilled. What could she say? What could she tell her? There was a chance that Hanae would understand, but even then, she was so young. Life was already hard for them, and it would only get harder for her, being what she was. She didn't need the pain of knowing what her father had done.

Noticing the absence of her mother's hand running through her hair, Hanae lifted her head up from where it lay and turned to look at her mother. She was shocked by the grief and pain she found on her mother's face.

"Mother? Mother? Are you alright?"

Seeing worry fill those gentle, violet eyes, Melina snapped out of her thoughts and gave Hanae a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine sweetheart, just a little tired. Come, it's time for you to go to bed. We'll need to wake up early tomorrow to start moving."

Hanae nodded and followed obediently. Melina tucked her in at the corner where they'd piled up some hay as a temporary bed and gave her a goodnight kiss on the forehead. She watched over Hanae as her breaths evened out and slowed. She couldn't lie. It hurt every time she saw her daughter. She was a constant reminder of things Melina would rather forget. But while she certainly had things she regretted, Hanae would never be one of them. She was all Melina had, and that was enough.


	6. The Lyre

**The origin of Carmentia's instrument of choice, and the moment she knew she would be a bard.**

* * *

The Lyre

Mother and I, we always moved, never stayed in one place for too long. The longer you stay, the more questions people start asking. Larger towns were expensive to stay in, but they offered more anonymity. We had stayed in this one for a while already, three months, and on this day Mother had to work late again, so she asked me to buy some supplies for medicine. I had managed to buy most of the herbs on mother's list at the markets, but I couldn't find any laishaberries. The grandmother at the stall suggested I go to the herbalist on the other side of town. Mother had told me not to wander too far away by myself, but she had given me a task and I had to do my best. The roads in this area were a lot quieter. Though I knew my skin was covered, and my hair was red, not white, I pulled my hood up all the same. It is easier to notice something out of the ordinary when there are less distractions walking around. It was a long walk, but I managed to find the place, and the berries.

It was getting late when I stepped out of the store. The price was higher than usual, and I was short a few coins. It took a bit of talking to convince the owner to sell them to me, but I had done it. I hurried back the way I came. I would return home much later than anticipated, and I had hoped to finish preparing dinner before Mother came back. Daylight would fade soon too, and I knew not to be caught out in the dark.

But a few streets down I was stopped by the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. The melody was otherworldly, alien, but it called to me all the same. In that moment, I forgot everything I was supposed to do. I had to know what made that sound. I didn't know those streets, but I listened, and my feet found the way. The music brought me through the twists and turns of several alleys before I came across the cloaked figure that was its source. I couldn't tell their race, nor their gender. I could only see their slender fingers dance across the strings of what I recognised as a lyre. Thankfully, some common sense remained and I hid in a nearby alley where I was fairly confident I could avoid being seen and peeked out from behind the corner. From my vantage point I watched, and I listened.

I had heard music before, but this was something different. The notes were alive. Every string plucked stirred something in the air, in the very fabric of reality. The figure called with the sounds that lyre made, and the world listened. It reflected, refracted and resonated within me, and I felt my entire being sing in response. I had heard stories of those who could make grown men weep and enchant an entire town with a single note, and I knew; this was a true bard. I lost all sense of time. All that existed was that beautiful music. I must have stood there listening for hours because it was already dark when my trance was broken by the twang of a broken string. Or rather, several strings. The musician muttered something in a language I couldn't understand and threw the instrument on the ground. I was still dazed, but then I found their gaze on mine. That jolted me awake. I quickly retreated. When I dared look out again, the mysterious stranger was gone. Only the crumpled heap of wood on the ground gave any indication that it wasn't a dream. After checking to make sure the street was indeed empty, I carefully approached the instrument and picked it up. I could make out the faint outlines of a bird of some kind as I traced a finger over the intricate carvings. I couldn't understand why anyone would throw away such a lovely thing. Well, it was broken, but it was still more beautiful, and probably worth more, than anything I had ever owned. I knew what I wanted then. I wanted to make that lyre sing.

Before I could think otherwise, I stuffed the lyre as gently as I could under my cloak and raced home, hugging it close to my chest. The wooden splinters dug into me, but I couldn't care less. I forgot to be afraid, my mind was filled with echoes of melodies. I found Mother standing outside the door to our one-room home, face framed by the glowing embers of her hair, illuminated by the dim firelight within.

"Mother!" I called, and she turned in my direction. It was then that I noticed the worry that lined her face, and the fear reflected in her eyes. My exuberant steps faltered as she ran towards me.

"Hanae! Where were you? You were supposed to be back hours ago! It's dangerous to be outside when it's dark, you know that!"

I did, and I had no excuse. I hung my head. "I…I couldn't find the laishaberries…I went to the herbalist but…I heard this sound and…and…it was so beautiful Mother, I…I…I'm sorry." I looked up at her tentatively. "Are you angry with me?"

"Oh Hanae…" She sighed, then hugged me close. "I'm just…so glad you're okay."

"But…" she cupped my face in her hands and looked into my eyes with those intense, sapphire ones. "Promise me you won't come home late again, okay?"

I nodded. I didn't want to worry Mother like that ever again. "I'm sorry Mother. I promise I won't do it again."

She seemed visibly relieved at my answer and relaxed. Her fingers lingered on my cheek for a moment before she stood back up.

"Did you get all the materials?"

I nodded and unslung the rug sack from my shoulder. She took the bag from me and opened it to check the herbs, still in good condition despite being jostled around.

"And, Mother?" I hesitated, but pulled the lyre out from under my cloak and handed it to her as well. "I found this too."

I waited nervously as she examined the clump of wood and string, that had only gotten more crushed on my little journey. "Can you… fix it, Mother?"

She looked back at me. After a moment, she said, "Sweetheart, I can't."

My heart fell. In that moment I felt just like that heap of mess in my mother's hands.

"But you can."

I looked at her, face filled with shock. She only smiled at me.

"Come on, let's go inside. Dinner first, then I'll teach you."

I followed her back into the little room we called home. Mother hadn't had time to make dinner either, so I helped prepare the ingredients as she set up the pot. We had a simple vegetable soup that night. I hadn't realised how hungry I was until the first spoonful. The bard's music had made me forget that too. After I helped her clean up the dishes, we both settled down in front of the fire and Mother taught me the Mending spell. It took the entire night to fix, but I was determined. One of the strings was missing however, I must not have noticed it in the dark when I picked up the lyre. It probably would have still sold for quite a bit of money, but Mother never mentioned it. I guess she could see how attached I was to it. But I will never forget the first time I ran my fingers across the nine newly Mended strings. They hummed, and it was as though I was greeting an old friend both familiar and strange.


	7. Erelias Theradin Part 1

**Part 1 of several short stories told through the perspective of Erelias Theradin, bard of the Feywild and definitely not a teacher.**

* * *

Erelias Theradin Part 1

Erelias Theradin stepped out of the portal that had spontaneously appeared in front of him onto the quiet streets of Arkenshire. He casually surveyed his surroundings. Nothing notable. Not much of an audience. Oh well, it was a convenient opportunity. He opened his bag of holding and pulled out a random instrument. It happened to be a lyre, carved in the likeness of a lyrebird. An interesting choice, an instrument made to look like the bird named after that same instrument. And though the work was clearly of fey origin, the wood and strings were foreign, from the Material Plane. Running a hand over the instrument, Erelias began. To the average person, it would seem only a simple ditty, perhaps not even well played. Only those with an affinity for the vibrations of the Weave would hear something truly special.

It was a few minutes before he noticed movement in his periphery. He made no motion to hint at having seen anything, but kept a watchful eye. It appeared to just be one figure. Well, it was more than he expected. The figure was small, features obscured by a cloak. However, it did not approach as Erelias had expected. It abruptly stopped short thirty feet away, then dashed into a nearby alley. A few moments later, a sliver of hood and face peeked out from behind the building wall. A timid one, he mused. After some consideration, he fed a few more strands of the Weave into his song and directed them towards the little thing, just to see what would happen. The effect wasn't immediate, but it was obvious. The figure was drawn to the music and seemed to almost unconsciously move towards him. Erelias saw it slowly but surely leave the safety of its hiding place, until almost half its body was visible. It didn't notice its hood slip back a little either. Erelias did. A child, and a half-human at that. It was growing dark, but in the fading light he could still clearly make out her red curls and wide-eyed awe. Purple eyes. How… interesting. Something about her seemed a little… strange, but he paid it no mind. He returned to the song, and as usual, projected the Weave. It wasn't as strong here, but it was still present, just different. But occasionally, he would observe the little thing and find her seemingly following the ebb and flow of magic.

It grew dark. The little thing still hadn't moved from her spot for the past few hours. Erelias added another strand of Weave…Twangtwangtwang. He looked down at the ten broken strings with mild irritation. As expected, an instrument made from the materials of the Material Plane, even with fey craftsmanship, couldn't withstand such high magical resonance. He muttered a few curses under his breath in Sylvan and dropped the lyre onto the ground. As he raised his head, he caught the eyes of the little thing that had remained watching this entire time. A moment passed in stillness, then he observed as panic flitted across those eyes and the girl pulled back behind the wall.

He didn't bother going after her. Too skittish, and he hated running. He turned and stepped through the portal as it closed behind him. It was an uneventful trip. A waste of a lyre, he supposed, but it hardly mattered, he had plenty more. Oh well. The half-human looked thoroughly enraptured enough to pick up an instrument herself. Inspiring a new generation, that should be enough to cover his bardic responsibilities for the next hundred years. If the little thing was determined enough, she could go find someone else to teach her.

This, he was certain. Erelias Theradin was many things, but he was no teacher.


	8. Erelias Theradin Part 2

**Erelias Theradin finds something familiar and something new in the forests of the Feywild. Part 2 of the Erelias Theradin series.**

* * *

Erelias Theradin Part 2

Erelias Theradin was walking through the forests of the Feywild when he heard a lovely sound. Soon he came across a small figure huddled inside the hollow of an Ambriar tree, sobbing. Well, perhaps "lovely" was the incorrect term to use. But the voice had potential. And at least she had chosen a nice tree. The Ambriar's leaves stood on end as he approached, a clear warning. Erelias raised a hand.

 _Peace, my friend. I am Arannior Liadon. I wish you and your charge no harm. I merely wish to speak to her._

The Ambriar froze at the name, then slowly lowered its leaves. Erelias continued unimpeded. The figure seemed oblivious to the exchange.

"Greetings little one."

The figure's head snapped up at his voice. Erelias caught a glimpse of slightly pointed ears before the girl scrambled backwards in fear. So, a half-human. He switched to Elvish.

"I will not hurt you. Do you understand?"

Her eyes showed no recognition of his words. Interesting. So she was raised among humans. He repeated his words in Common. There was a pause, then a small, unsure nod.

"Then do not be afraid. Come out and let us speak plainly in the light."

She shook her head furiously at this and tried to retreat further into the safety of the Ambriar's hollow, but the Ambriar shifted and with a ripple through its body, gently nudged her out of the opening and sealed the hollow closed behind her. The moment light hit her skin Erelias realised the reason for her fear. She was not just a half-human, she was half-drow. How very… interesting.

The girl herself seemed incredibly shocked, looking back at the Ambriar, face full of confusion and fear. Clearly she had not realised the Ambriar's true nature. Her attention then flipped to Erelias and she froze, seemingly caught between wanting to get as far away from him as possible and staying a safe distance from the Ambriar. As her eyes turned to him, he saw… that shade of purple seemed… familiar. Erelias then noticed her arms were wrapped around a rather large object. An instrument that was extremely familiar.

"Where did you get that lyre?"

Her eyes opened even wider in fright. "I didn't steal it! It's mine!" she cried with that sweet voice and hugged the instrument even closer to herself. Her frantic response caught Erelias a little by surprise. But on second thought, it was not surprising she had met with similar but perhaps less fortunate situations. He squatted down and held out both hands, palms open, showing her he had no weapons and meant no harm.

"I only have a few questions. It would be very kind of you to answer them."

She didn't respond, but his words and actions seemed to confuse her. Erelias understood. She must have been taught to hide, to be afraid of what she was. He waited. Eventually, sure that he meant what he said, she calmed down enough to speak.

"I found it. It was broken. Mother helped me fix it. She…"

She trailed off. Erelias could guess with certainty what happened to her mother. As for her father… if he wasn't dead then the little thing must have never met him.

"May I look at it?"

She took a step back and shook her head, reed-thin arms trembling from gripping the lyre so tightly. She looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Please, I… it's the only thing I have left of her."

"Do not fear, I will not take it from you."

She eyed him warily. Erelias made no motion to suggest any other intention. For a long time, he waited patiently and watched. She was a mess, arms and legs littered with bruises and scratches, her face thin and sunken. She probably hadn't eaten or slept in days. And now that the initial rush of adrenaline was fading, he could see she was exhausted, and desperate for someone to trust.

"I promise I will return it to you."

The child looked down at her instrument and looked back at him. Erelias recognised the signs of an internal debate in her uncertain eyes, but eventually, she loosened her grip and slowly, reluctantly, held the lyre out to him. Erelias took it gently in hand. He didn't pull when he met with resistance as she held on a moment longer. Finally, she let go. He could hear her heart hammering through the Weave.

Erelias examined the instrument that was now in his hand. A little worn, but it was definitely the same instrument he had carelessly discarded only a short while ago, minus a string, but Mended it seemed. He looked back at the girl, whose entire being was on edge. Her hair was white, not red, and her silvery skin was a clear sign of what she was, but Erelias remembered those eyes, filled with awe, not fear, once upon a time. He held out the lyre to her. Her eyes flickered between him and the lyre as she hesitantly reached out for it. She visibly relaxed once the instrument returned to her two hands. A little smile appeared on her lips. Erelias wondered what it would be like if melodies passed through those lips instead. That would truly be… interesting.

"Play something for me."

She started at his sudden words.

"I… I don't know many songs," she stammered.

"Play what you want."

She still seemed unsure, but still she ran her fingers over the strings, testing. Left-handed. Interesting. After a while, she looked back at him and he gave a nod of encouragement. At this, she began her chosen song, plucking the strings for the opening chord. It was weak, unpractised, but then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and _sang_.

There was nothing special about her song, a lullaby of some sort, and she obviously couldn't weave magic into her music, but… The song carried with it a resonance, foreign to the Weave of the Feywild, but still it inspired a feeling. That feeling… it was… warm. Erelias heard. He _listened_.

As the last note of her song faded, she looked up at him nervously. Erelias showed no emotion, his face was concealed by the hood of his cloak anyway, but inside, he felt… He looked into those eyes, that despite everything they must have seen, still carried a spark of hope. She was a little singer. A _carmentia_.

He stood up and walked away from the Ambriar, back the way he came. The girl watched, confused. He paused, and with a slight turn of his head, he spoke.

"Come, Carmentia."

He continued without another word. A beat later, he heard the rustling of hurried footsteps trailing after him.

Erelias Theradin was no teacher, yet he now had a little thing following in his footsteps.


	9. The Raging Storm Inside

**The Company learns that the blue Tear of Tyranny, housing Typhon, a monstrosity from the depths of the ocean, appears to be the source of the Great Storm, which is linked to both the barnacled condition they found their friends Kanunu and TimTim in and the Sahuagin raiders who have been terrorising the tortle village. Joined by Darriamus and Evelyn, the uncle and niece pair they had met on the way to Chult, the Company journeys to the temple where the blue orb has been kept. Their arrival alerts the Sahuagin guarding the orb and the greater Sahuagin army will soon swarm the temple. Darriamus urges them to find the orb and assures them he will hold off the army.**

* * *

The Raging Storm Inside

Carmentia raced down the hallway with her companions. They had to stop Typhon before it was too late. Darriamus was holding off the army from the Depths, but they hadn't much time. This was one of seven paths they had come across when they'd entered the inner sanctum. Only one would lead to the blue orb. Each doorway was labelled with a symbol. They hadn't known what Typhon's looked like. Carmentia prayed they had chosen the right one. As they travelled deeper into the temple, the two walls on either side began to display murals depicting Ollyhydra, the elemental prince of evil waters, gifting a Tear of Tyranny to the tortles. Typhon's mother. They were on the right track. Soon, a dim torchlight appeared at the end of the corridor. Almost there. They burst out of the narrow hall into an open chamber.

And there, in the middle of the room, was an altar, and upon it, none other than the blue Tear of Tyranny. Typhon's prison. It immediately became clear what the problem was. A deep, jagged crack had formed in the smooth surface of the Tear. This must be what was causing the Great Storm. Carmentia walked up to the altar and inspected the orb. If she could somehow fix it… She reached out her hands, readied her Mending spell and placed them over the crack. The moment she made contact, overwhelming fury flooded her senses. They had all heard Typhon's psychic scream. But nothing could have prepared her for this. This was raw, unadulterated anger.

 _Calm down. Please, calm down._

But it was like trying to calm the storm, reason with a force of nature. It did not hear her. It would not listen. It battered against her, furious at her interfering presence, forcing itself through the crack she was trying to Mend. Mind-numbing rage threatened to take over her entire existence. She needed to diffuse that anger, that hatred. Carmentia dug deep inside her, to that place of peace and solace, and pushed back with all the strength she could muster.

 _NO!_

It caught Typhon by surprise. He had seriously underestimated her. The explosion of calm gave her enough impulse to drive him far away enough to wedge herself between him and freedom. From the outside, the Company watched as the crack under Carmentia's hand began to close. But this much willpower, this much peace, she knew she couldn't keep this up. She pulled back her consciousness and quickly formed a sturdy line of defence in front of the crack. She needed time to Mend it.

Time.

* * *

Valerius scanned the room, his entire being on high alert. Nothing had approached them, but still it was better to be safe than sorry. Though, the lack of enemies at the moment meant that Darriamus was still managing to hold them off. By himself. Valerius hadn't known Darriamus for long, but he had to acknowledge the man's tenacity. He didn't have high hopes for his survival though. Darriamus' niece, Evelyn, had come with them, and though she put on an indifferent front, she was clearly on edge. They all were.

He glanced over his shoulder to check on Carmentia. He had watched her run up to the orb and say she would try to mend it with her magic. Then she put her hands on the Tear of Tyranny and said nothing more. That had been half an hour ago. She hadn't moved that entire time, but whatever she was doing, it seemed to be working. The crack was sealing up. It was slower now, but to Valerius' keen eye, it was definitely still going. Carmentia was holding on. She didn't look like much, but Valerius knew her boundless forgiveness, her kindness, her determination to protect. He had faith she would succeed. But whatever was happening in there, she needed to hurry.

* * *

The struggle of willpower with Typhon was agonising. But Carmentia was slowly and surely making progress.

 _Please, just let go. I know you are angry. But you can still find peace in here. Isn't it tiring to be so angry all the time?_

Most of the orb had already reformed, only spiderweb fractures remained. There was just a little bit left now. It was excruciatingly slow. They were locked in an impasse. Carmentia had no idea how long she had been doing this, how long she could keep doing this. She had to seal the orb soon. She thought of Darriamus holding off the swarming horde of Sahuagin, if he was still alive…

But that momentary lapse in attention was all that Typhon needed. A sliver of his essence darted past her defences. Carmentia panicked, and tried to pull it back, but that thing was a slippery eel that slithered through her fingers. She was forced to give up the chase and focus solely on the rest when Typhon, sensing her loosening hold over the orb, slammed into her, trying to force her out. The aftershocks were jarring, but Carmentia kept her mental grip tight and slowed her Mending magic to a snail's pace. Only that barely managed to contain him. She was dimly aware of her companions fighting something around her, but she didn't dare shift her focus even a little again. She didn't dare think of anything else. Her senses faded into the background. There was no sense of time, direction. All she could see was the endless expanse of blue, and Typhon's tireless wrath. She kept Mending.

Finally, she felt the last of the fractures close up. Typhon struggled frantically, but Carmentia had pushed past the tipping point. He fell back into the depths as all his influence flushed through the seas, the temple, and was sucked back into the orb. Typhon released one last psychic scream. It was a scream of hatred, of fury. But it was also filled with anguish. Carmentia pitied him.

 _I know you want to be free. But I can't let you hurt more people like this. I'm sorry._

As the last of Typhon's essence was sealed in the orb, Carmentia felt herself finally relax. She could still feel his presence, his furious struggle, but the pressure on her mind had eased significantly. Her conscience was not light though. She had managed to save the tortles from the Great Storm, but in doing so she had effectively become Typhon's jailer. Taking another's freedom, she could never forgive herself for that. There had to be another way. But there wasn't anything she could do about it now. Typhon surely hated her and would definitely not listen to reason. Maybe if she spent more time with him later, if she could get him to calm down, maybe she could convince him to be good.

She withdrew from the orb. It took her a moment to get her bearings, but when focus returned to her eyes, she found herself looking into the smooth, unblemished surface of the blue Tear. She breathed a sigh of relief. But that momentary respite did not last.

Aulera cried out in pain and Carmentia jumped as she whipped around to see Rat with their crossbow raised. Before she could react, Aulera had notched her bow in a flash and shot at Rat in return. That look of fury in their faces, they must have been affected when Typhon's influence was drawn in. She quickly cast Calm Emotions, fumbling a little for a few seconds, having forgotten she was still holding the orb. A soothing calm washed over them all. Rat and Aulera blinked as the hateful influence lifted from their minds.

Carmentia rushed over to check on them. Thankfully they hadn't hurt each other too badly. She had managed to stop them in time. She quickly cast a few healing spells on them. Then she checked them over again, just to be sure. Though all her party members were fine, something seemed out of place. It was… too quiet. She suddenly remembered.

"Darriamus! We have to help him!"

Valerius spoke up, "The fighting seems to have stopped for some reason though. I think we should be careful if we do not know what the situation is outside."

"Then, what should we do?"

"Go up. Maybe Darriamus is barely alive and is lying on the ground dying as we speak," the low, resonant voice of the goliath sounded.

"Maybe you could cast Sending," Valerius suggested.

Carmentia had almost forgotten she had that spell. She quickly cast it.

 _Darriamus, are you alright? What is the situation?_

There was no response. Dread creeped up her spine. That could only mean one thing…

Evelyn simply walked out of the room.

"Evelyn-"

She ignored her.

"Alright, let's go up." Aulera flipped her bow in hand and turned to leave, followed closely by Frosty.

"…Wait, what should we do with…" Carmentia gestured at the orb in her arms.

"Take it with us," Aulera responded, already making her way down the hallway again.

Carmentia hugged it close to her body and followed behind her companions, bringing up the rear with Valerius and Rat. They returned to the stairs that had led them to the inner sanctum. Evelyn walked up to the slab of rock and slammed into it with her shoulder. Once. Twice. Frosty came up next to her and together they shoved the heavy stone door aside. They stopped. Carmentia peeked out from behind them cautiously. She froze in shock.

Sahuagin bodies littered the floor, many wounded, but many seemingly without cause for death. Whatever she had done when she drew all of Typhon's essence back into the orb, it seemed she had drawn away all their life force too. It was a dreadful sight. She felt a pang of guilt at unknowingly being the indirect cause of so many deaths. But then she saw Darriamus. He was the closest to the door, though she hadn't noticed him at first, half-covered by the swarm of bodies. He must have fallen only moments before she had sealed the orb.

She was numb. She couldn't look away. She pushed her way through to the front and knelt down next to him. He was barely breathing. There was so much blood. There was not a single part of his body that wasn't littered with wounds. She dropped the orb aside, hardly thinking about it at all, and put her hands on his chest, casting healing spell after healing spell. But before she had even begun, she knew. It wouldn't work. They were too late.

But… she couldn't just accept it. If only she had been a little faster… If only her concentration hadn't broken… She had to try. She had to make it work. She barely noticed her companions moving the dead Sahuagin aside.

"Darriamus, please just hold on. It'll be okay. It'll be okay…"

She tried to push for another Cure Wounds but a searing pain racked her body and the world began spinning. Sealing Typhon had already taken too much out of her. She had to stop. She dropped a hand to the ground to steady herself. She was out of magic.

She had a medicine kit though, she could still try that. But as she rummaged through her bag, Evelyn came up next to her and picked up Darriamus' body.

"No, wait! I can heal him! Please, I-"

"I'll take it from here," Evelyn cut her off. "I'll meet you back at the village. There are some things I need to take care of."

She watched Evelyn leave, picking her way through the piles of bodies, and finally the tears came. It didn't matter which choice she made, someone always got hurt. She always ended up hurting someone. Even if she knew Resurrection, Darriamus would still be lost to them. Just as Tiktok before him. Just as Mirgallidan before her. Just as countless others in the past, and many more in the future. Such was the nature of the Death Curse. Carmentia vowed that she would make things right. They will defeat the Death Curse. They will save Darriamus.

They had to.


	10. Vocabulary (Blackmoon)

**A Blackmoon Tale. A young Daniir tries to teach his baby sister to say his name.**

* * *

Vocabulary

"Come on now. Try it again. Say 'Daniir'."

"Da."

"No, Daniir."

"Dada."

"Daniir."

"Da, dada!"

"Alright, let's start simpler. How about Dan. Can you say 'Dan' for me?"

"Da."

"Daaan."

"Da!"

"No, Daaaaaan."

"DAAAAA!"

"No, Kiki…" Daniir sighed, burying his face in his hands. He'd been trying to teach his sister to say his name for hours now, to no avail. She had no trouble picking up any other words he taught her, but somehow, his name was unpronounceable. If not for how long Akshi had been trying, he would think she was purposely trying to annoy him. In all his time of seventeen or so elven years he had never felt so frustrated.

"Dada?"

He looked up into those lovely blue eyes that sparkled like a starfield. Akshi reached out for him, putting her two tiny hands on either side of his face and gently patted his left cheek.

"Dada…no cwi, kay?"

All of Daniir's irritation melted away. He took a hand into his own and pressed his forehead to hers.

"It's alright, Kiki, I'm not upset. Look, I know you're tired. I am too. I know you've been trying very hard, but I know you can do it, okay? Just take your time, have a think about it, and then try again. I believe in you Kiki."

He sat back into his chair and waited patiently as Akshi scrunched up her face in concentration. Minutes passed in silence. It was getting late, and well past Akshi's bedtime. Daniir was ready to call it a day and continue tomorrow. But just as he was about to speak, he heard a soft…

"…Dan."

He paused. "Kiki, can you say that again?"

Akshi looked up at him "Dan."

"…That's right."

"DanDan?"

"Yes! You did it!"

"DanDan!"

"Yes!"

"DanDan DanDan DanDan!"

"Wait… that's only half of it…" But Akshi wasn't paying attention anymore and continued happily babbling her new favourite word. Daniir inwardly sighed. This would be a problem… for another time. Akshi laughed and held up her arms, outstretched, asking him to pick her up.

"DanDan!"

He conceded, lifting her off her cot and hugging her close. Akshi wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

"DanDan," she whispered as she fell asleep, safe and warm in her brother's arms.

Daniir would have to rest with a toddler clinging onto him tonight. Daniir would be stuck indefinitely with this silly nickname. But as he listened to the gentle rhythm of his little sister's heart, he smiled. It was good enough.

* * *

 **Author's Note: A short and sweet story for now. More Blackmoon Tales to come.**


	11. Forgive and Forget (Blackmoon)

**A Blackmoon Tale. In the city of Hal-Sharam, Ishmael had sponsored a group of children, called the Heralds, to facilitate the Matriarch selections. After several adventures, the Heralds, Elyria, Adyra, Yubel and Belthar, had found five Star Shards, crystals with immense power formed from the tears of gods, which could help power the Matriarch contestants' Gifts to the city. They gave two to Vishenya, one to Barley, one to Ishmael and one they kept themselves. They were later sent to find the little aasimar, Akshi, who had run away from the Church after her brother Daniir left for a mission. Eventually they found her and decided to take her to the Gift ceremony as Vaneira's Gift needed to draw upon Akshi's divine connection. However, before this happened, Akshi accidentally absorbed the Herald's Star Shard and caught the attention of the elven goddesses. From their jostle for power over her, Lolth emerged victorious. During Vaneira's presentation of her Gift to summon a solar, Akshi, under Lolth's influence, unleashed a tsunami that killed hundreds and caused mass destruction to the city. Through the combined efforts of the Heralds', Akshi and Thariel, the situation was mostly resolved. Daniir had recently returned, and was seriously injured in the ordeal.**

 **Now for the aftermath.**

* * *

Forgive and Forget (and Forgive Again)

Pain, that was the first thing Daniir registered. His entire body ached, but the pounding in his head won by a mile. But Daniir was not a paladin for nothing. He pushed through the pain as he struggled to remember… Akshi. His heart rate went from zero to panicked in less than a second.

 _He needed… to… protect her!_

As he forced his eyes open, he became aware of a small presence curled up next to him and when he turned his head he caught sight of strands of blue. His sister. His panic subsided. She was safe. Safe. Only now did Daniir take note of his surroundings. He was lying on a hospital bed in a little room with a single window. Pale sunlight filtered through the panes. It seemed to be morning. Clean sheets covered his body, and Akshi had squeezed in next to him on top of them. She had wedged herself under his arm and was currently drawing patterns on his bed covers lightly with a finger. Daniir called to her. His voice was hoarse, but he managed to form the words.

"Kiki…"

His sister bolted upright at the sound and looked at him with wide eyes. Now that she was in his line of sight, Daniir checked her over. Her hair was even messier than usual. Her eyes were hazy, like she had just woken up, and her glow was not as bright as he recalled, but she otherwise seemed fine, just exhausted. Daniir was relieved. So long as she was okay, everything was fine… everything was fine…

"You liar! You big liar!" his sister cried as she slapped him with the sleeves of a robe still too big for her.

It didn't hurt, she only hit the sheets covering his body. Daniir could barely feel it, but her every blow struck his heart.

"Kiki… I…"

"You promised you'd never leave me! You promised! You promised…"

Tears started to fall from those lovely blue eyes. Seeing that felt like a twisting knife in Daniir's heart. He struggled to push himself up into sitting position. The pain was excruciating. He finally managed it, barely, and brought his arms around his sister, pulling her to him. Her blows turned into half-hearted attempts until they trailed off with Akshi sobbing into his chest, too tired to fight anymore.

"I was so scared. I healed you many many times but you wouldn't wake up. I thought you were never going to wake up again."

"Shh, I know. I'm sorry."

Daniir remembered another time he had held her like this. She was much younger then. It was after Daniir's first mission, just within the city. He left Akshi playing hide-and-seek with some other children. When he returned, she was nowhere to be found. He had never felt so terrified. He looked for her everywhere, asked everyone, but finally after seeing the other children's guilty faces, he managed to get the truth out of them. She had been hiding in one of the cleaning closets when they locked her inside, in the dark. When he found her, she had already been in there for three hours. She had been afraid of the dark ever since. She still didn't know she had been locked in on purpose, and Daniir didn't intend to change that. He wanted to protect her a little longer.

It wasn't the first time she had cried, nor the first time she had gotten hurt, but it was the first time someone had hurt her. It didn't matter that the perpetrators were only stupid children who didn't know any better. He had sworn then, never again. He would never forgive anyone who was the reason for his sister's tears. But this time, he was the one who made her cry. And… he couldn't protect her from this. Akshi had quietened down a little now and was trying to bury her tear-stained face in his shirt.

"I killed people, DanDan," she whispered.

"I almost killed Eli and Adi and Red BelBel and Other BelBel too. I almost killed DanDan."

"No, Akshi, it was not your fault."

 _It was mine._

He had been furious when they conveniently "forgot" to tell him about his sister's disappearance. It… was a regular occurrence, but still, it was always him who found her and brought her back. But the drow man, Ishmael, had assured him that she was safe. She was growing up now and needed some space to think things through on her own. She would come back. Daniir didn't like it, but he couldn't argue with anything Ishmael said. Besides, he still had his duties to take care of. Lord Roth needed to be watched. He didn't trust that man.

Ishmael had been right about one thing though, Akshi did come back. She had arrived at the Gift ceremony with new friends, the… Heralds apparently. She was glowing brighter than usual. And she seemed happy. He knew she was nervous when she came onto the stage, but the moment she saw him, she froze. The way she had looked at him… he could never forget. He had never seen so many complex feelings cross her face. When she gave no response to his words, he thought she was just sulking again. When she started to cry, he tried to hug her, thinking it was just like any other time. He couldn't have been more stupid.

Warning bells went off in his head when she pushed him away. She had never done that before. He asked her what was wrong, but she didn't answer. He was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. He knew something was very, very wrong, but they were in public, and one of Akshi's new friends had persuaded him to wait till after the ceremony. Vaneira needed to use her for her gift. And Vaneira… well… he wanted her to succeed. She was strong, and beautiful, and Daniir believed she should be their Matriarch. She deserved it. But… she wasn't the girl who loved him more than anything in the world. He shouldn't have listened to any of them. Akshi was his sister. He knew her better than anyone.

He failed to be there when she needed him. She had been hurt, and he didn't even know, too blinded by his devotion to the church, to Vaneira. He had promised her, yet, he had left her anyway.

 _It's not your fault Akshi. I failed you. I failed to protect you. Everything that happened… I'm the one to blame._

Her voice interrupted his thoughts.

"DanDan… it hurts. Why does it hurt so much? If it's not my fault, why does it hurt so much?"

Daniir had no answer for her. It hurt him seeing her in pain. He stroked her back soothingly. He felt the light tickle of feathers on the back of his hand. She had little wings now too, another thing he had missed while away. He still wasn't quite sure how that had happened… but that wasn't important right now.

"DanDan?"

"Yes, Akshi?"

"Do you hate me? Will they all hate me now?"

Daniir's heart broke.

"No, don't ever think that, Akshi."

 _No one, after meeting you, could ever hate you. It wasn't your fault. It was never your fault._

This wasn't what he wanted for Akshi. She had so much light in her. She would bring so much joy into this world. But now with the memory of this tragedy weighing on her, her light flickered like a candle in the wind, vulnerable to the barest breeze. He wanted to protect that light. He had sworn to protect that light. How could he make this right again?

Then Daniir thought of something. Or rather, someone. Thariel. He had never been close to her, but he knew she was efficient. And she was certainly far more knowledgeable in the arcane arts. She might be able to do something for Akshi.

"Akshi, do you trust DanDan?"

She nodded her head without hesitation, and Daniir only felt worse.

* * *

"Thariel. I know you are busy b-"

"So don't bother me. Leave. I have work to do."

"I know you don't know me well, but this is for my sister. I have a favour to ask of you."

Thariel paused in her work and looked over at the paladin who had blindly followed that idiot Vaneira, and his little sister who had caused all this trouble in the first place. She sighed.

"Well, considering I couldn't have made the Mage Eye work without her, I suppose that is a favour to be repaid."

She turned to him and crossed her arms.

"What do you want?"

Daniir took a deep breath.

"What happened with the… Vaneira's gift and the solar… it's hurting her. Can you… take it away?"

Thariel rolled her eyes. "I'm not a therapist. What do you want me to do? Give her a candy and sing her to sleep? Be more specific."

"Your magic. Can it… alter memories of events?"

"You mean you want me to erase her memories?"

"…Yes."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure that is what you want?"

Daniir closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he answered firmly. "I want what is best for her."

She studied him a few moments longer. Finally, she spoke, "Alright. Come here, child."

Akshi looked between the matriarch contestant and her brother, eyes uncertain and confused. At Daniir's nod of encouragement, she let go of her brother's hand and walked over to Thariel.

"Sit down."

Akshi paused for a moment, but then sat down on chair, fidgeting nervously in place.

"I'll forget what happened?"

"Yes."

"Will I forget what happened to DanDan too? I don't want to be angry at DanDan anymore."

Thariel sighed. "You will forget ever being involved with Vaneira's machine. You will only remember being brought to the Mage Tower and everything that happened after that. Understood, child?"

The little aasimar turned to look at her brother once more. Then, she answered, "Okay."

Thariel nodded. "Now, this might feel strange, but do not resist, do you understand?"

Daniir watched as Thariel muttered a few incantations and touched two fingers to Akshi's forehead. She immediately fell unconscious, but Thariel's somatic gestures continued a few moments more, weaving magic and memories through the air. As soon as her spell seemed complete, Daniir rushed to his sister's side and checked her over.

"Will she be alright?"

"She'll wake up in a bit. Now take her away. I have work to do."

Daniir carefully picked Akshi up in his arms and took her outside the Mage Tower. The Church had been severely damaged, there was no way she could rest there, so Daniir took her back to the room he had been in in the hospital and laid her on the bed. Then he pulled up a chair next to the bed and waited.

During that time, one of his comrades knocked on the door and told him if he was well enough to move then he should take up some shifts repairing the Church. He offhandedly agreed he would do that tomorrow and left it at that.

A few hours later, Akshi began to stir. Daniir watched as those lovely eyes, now perfectly clear, open and focus on him. A huge smile broke out on her face.

"DanDan!"

She jumped out of bed and flung her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Daniir barely managed to stop himself from being knocked over from the sheer force of her enthusiasm. He hugged her back and tried to smile for her, but still he felt guilty. He hadn't earned her forgiveness, only taken away his failings from her memory. He… was a terrible big brother.

Akshi pulled back from the hug to look at him, and seemingly sensing something was not right, tilted her head in worry.

"What's wrong, DanDan?"

He never could hide anything from her. She always saw right through him. He had to confess. Even if she didn't remember, he had to tell her the truth. He motioned for her to sit down on the bed and she did, looking at him with those eyes. Those bright, innocent eyes he couldn't meet with his own. He looked away.

"Akshi… I'm sorry. I failed you. I… I wasn't here when you needed me. I never should have left you alone. I made you a promise and I broke it. I'm… so sorry."

 _I'm sorry. There is nothing else I can say._

"It's okay."

He turned to her in shock. She only smiled back at him, without a trace of blame in her eyes.

"You came back. DanDan's here with me now, just like you promised."

Daniir… didn't know how to feel. He didn't deserve her forgiveness, yet she had forgiven him anyway. He knew, that didn't make any of it right, she didn't remember everything… but… What she had given him so freely, it was worth the world to him. He wanted to hold onto that.

So he surrendered himself to an afternoon of Akshi time, settled down as comfortably as he could in his chair and listened to his little sister tell him all about the adventures she'd been having.

"…and I made lots of new friends too! I wouldn't have met them if I didn't run away. So now I have Adi and Eli and Red BelBel and Other BelBel, and DanDan too. That's five people who love me now!"

For the first time since he woke up, Daniir smiled.

 _No one could help but fall in love with you, Akshi._


	12. Who I Could Have Been

**Who are you, Vishenya?**

* * *

Who I Could Have Been

Vishenya finished the last note of her song and smiled as her little audience applauded in awe. She had always loved children. She had been brought to Hal-Sharam a little while ago. It was a beautiful place in the forests. It was so lively and peaceful. They had proper business to take care of here though. Father was hoping to start the Heralds, a chance for the children to make friends and help out in making decisions for the community. A new Matriarch was to be selected too, and Father had asked her to enter as one of the contestants. The drow had all voiced their support after all. She was a little nervous, but Father said she could do a lot of good for the city. She liked the city. Nobody was mean to her. Nobody shunned her. Nobody made her feel like she was nothing. She was needed. She made people happy. It was… nice.

She had woken up with no memory of her life. No memory of who she was. But Father had been there, and he comforted her, reassured her. He told her her name and he promised he would look after her, protect her. He told her something had happened while she was travelling with her companions, and one of his people, Cianna, had found her, alone, and brought her here. There was another woman too, Evelyn, Father's… bodyguard. Vishenya didn't think she had met Evelyn before, and Evelyn herself gave no indication of recognition, but when she first saw her, she felt… terrible. But perhaps that was just a side-effect of whatever had happened to her before. She was coming to terms with her amnesia, it hadn't affected her abilities for the most part, but sometimes it felt like there was something she just wasn't getting. Like she had lost something very important to her, apart from her memories of course. But that didn't make sense. Everything important to her was right here. Her name was Vishenya, and she had a father who loved her. She was happy and that was all that mattered. She wished Father would tell her more about her mother though. She couldn't remember her face, and her voice lingered only as whispered echoes in the back of her mind. It brought her a warm feeling, but that was all.

The city was in chaos. Vaneira had tried to summon a solar with her Gift to the city, using the little aasimar, but it backfired. Vishenya had been worried when they led the child on stage. When she saw her standing there, trying not to cry. But Father made it clear they were helping Vaneira, and they shouldn't interfere. She wanted to say something. She should have said something. No one could have guessed there was another power in play that day. Somehow, the child had absorbed the last Star Shard the Heralds had been holding on to. And that had caught the attention of the spider goddess. The tsunami killed hundreds. Vishenya had been knocked out in the commotion. She knew there wasn't anything she could have done, but still she felt… guilty. After all, the fight afterwards only escalated to such a mess because her Gift, the Panharmonicon, had malfunctioned too. She was worried Father would be upset with her, that had surely hurt her chances of becoming Matriarch, but he said he was just relieved she wasn't hurt. He knew she had tried her best, but they knew she wasn't made to be a leader. Thankfully all the children were safe, Father made sure of it. But for a moment Vishenya had selfishly wished Father could have stayed to protect her. She knew, there were things bigger than themselves, things more important than family, but… Father was always so busy. She just wanted to be part of a normal family for a little while… she… just wanted to feel loved.

The Heralds came over again a few days after the disaster. The little angel though, she didn't remember any of it. She had agreed to have her memories taken. Her brother had asked Vishenya not to mention anything about it, the poor child had been through enough, and it hurt him to see his little sister suffering for something that was never her fault. She had noticed a look flash across Father's face when he saw the little girl. She asked him about it afterwards, and he had confessed to her that he had been the one who sealed her memories. But he explained he only did so because she had been… broken… in some way. Whatever had happened before, it had traumatised her. He apologised for not telling her from the beginning, he hadn't wanted to scare her. She was shocked, but it made sense. Father did what was best for her. He always did what was best for everyone. Anyway, she trusted his judgement. He knew what he was doing. He had a plan. And either way, she was fine now wasn't she? Sure, she couldn't remember much of her life from before, but Father had fixed her, and she had a new life now.

The children arrived back today after two weeks of supposedly being teleported out to sea along with a sizeable portion of Pearl Port. She was glad to see they were unharmed, but what was curious was the armada of tortles who accompanied them. They hailed from the continent Chult apparently. Her father later told her that she had been to Chult before. She had a vague idea of the companions with whom she had travelled, but it was just so hard trying to concentrate on it. She remembered some of them, no names, and their faces were blurry, but she remembered a little goblin man, who made her laugh one second, and then made her very angry the next. She remembered someone else, who was also green, a dragonborn. He was brash and rude and never listened to her, but she remembered feeling safe, and trying to be friends but… why did it hurt to think of him? What happened? She deduced she had probably known those two the longest, and she knew there were more, but she just couldn't recall. There was something important there, but…

The tortle named TimTim was quite friendly. The little spark of curiosity in his eyes was so very familiar, it was… not exactly what she had expected, but she had anticipated it the moment she spoke to him, as though she had known him from before. But that was simply a wild thought. The tortles hadn't left their secluded little island for centuries until now, what were the chances she would have met one? Besides, TimTim would surely have mentioned it if they had met before. His brother Kanunu had met her father before after all.

Vishenya looked out to sea. It was comforting in a familiar way she couldn't quite place. Her father had told her to accompany the children to the North-West, where Thultanthar was approaching. He hoped that seeing the city would help her remember. She did what she was told, but she didn't quite understand. If her memories had been locked up to stop her from falling apart, what would happen if she remembered everything? She didn't want to be broken again. And if her past had only brought her pain, did she really want to remember? She didn't know anymore. While a part of her insisted all that didn't matter, it was in the past, there was still a part of her that yearned to find out, whether because of curiosity or otherwise. There was something important she wasn't supposed to forget. Her instincts told her it would change everything. And that scared her. But by choice or not, she was already starting to recall a little more. A few fleeting memories here and there, but they were like dreams upon awakening, she couldn't remember details, only feelings. But that comparison was kind of debatable now, since according to those children, she didn't dream. Was that because of her missing memories… or was it something else?

She saw Thultanthar. It was magnificent and ominous in equal measure and hit her with a flash of memories. Not all at once, but now she knew they were there. She just needed to know what to look for. It also brought forth feelings she couldn't quite decipher. She remembered now. She saw Thultanthar rise. She was not alone. She had people who stood by her side. Why couldn't she… they were important to her. They must have been. Where were they now? But she also remembered. It was dark. And she was alone. Did they leave her behind? Was she… not important to them? She remembered feeling afraid and worried, but not for herself… though… who was she? What was she? Did she… die? She needed to speak to her father.

* * *

I remember. I remember everything. My name is Hanae Carmentia Silverthorn, and I am my mother's daughter. I remember my companions. I remember Torrin, and how the power of the green orb had tempted him and swayed him away from us. I remember TimTim and Kanunu, I can barely recognise him even now. I remember the blue orb they hold, and what it had cost us. Evelyn… had she always known? How could she… I remember Na, oh, how could I have forgotten that sweet child? I remember Kulak, who had been with me the longest and yet was the first to leave me behind, as I had always feared, and taken the rest with him. I remember quiet, stoic Frosty, Aulera's devilish grin, and Rat, my dear Rat who was too afraid to protest, but brave enough to whisper back my words "We cannot condone this". I remember Valerius, the only one who had walked away from Thultanthar with me. The only one who had always stayed by my side. He had followed me, and I led him to the same fate as the beings sealed in the Tears we hoped to destroy. I hope he can forgive me. I am just… so relieved he is alright.

I remember _him_ , my _father_. This man who had taken my mother from me and remade me in his image. This man who had taken me from the only ones who truly cared for me. This man who had taken every moment of sorrow, every moment of joy that made me who I was and who I am and left me a blank slate for him to write on. I never wanted to hurt these people. I never wanted to deceive them. I never wanted a war. The moment his eyes meet mine, I know that he knows. I have lost so much. I lost my mother, I lost my friends. I lost my life, my soul. It takes me the longest time to find words, my own words, and speak.

"Haven't I lost enough?"

 _Haven't these children lost enough?_

There is nothing else I can say to him.

He does not hide. He does not make excuses for what he has done. Even though there are a hundred, a thousand valid reasons I could not refute, he does not use a single one. The worst part is I understand why he did it. After Thultanthar I wasn't thinking clearly. I wasn't, thinking. I looked for him because I didn't know what to do. I didn't know, but he did. And he did it.

There were too many things I wanted. I wanted to save my friends, if I can even call them that. I wanted to free the souls from Thultanthar. I wanted to protect Valerius, I couldn't lose him too. But I was nothing on my own. I couldn't do it on my own. I was foolish. I was desperate. After Thultanthar I wanted, I needed someone to trust. Someone to tell me everything would be okay. I wish I had been a little stronger.

I knew I knew nothing about Ishmael, yet I trusted him anyway. But he knew me. He knew I would never agree with him. Not as Hanae. Not as Carmentia. Not as Vishenya. I am too much my mother's daughter. He had tried, of course, tried to persuade me to see things his way. I could never accept it. No one has the right to decide who lives and who dies, Mother taught me that.

But there is nothing I can do now. Despite my efforts, three new elven gods have been born. And the whole city has paid the price. I know, these new gods, they are kind, they are present. They will protect these children. But at what cost? Ishmael has purged the city of the cruelty of adults so that the children would not have to suffer for their sins. But he has torn their families apart too. Just like how he had torn our family apart.

He looks at me now, a deep sorrow in his eyes that does not try to apologise, because no apology is enough. Because he has done unforgivable things. He used me, his own daughter, like he uses everyone else. He has hurt me in the worst way possible and he knows he doesn't deserve forgiveness. He kneels before us, at the mercy of the goddesses he had created. And now, his judgement lies in the hands of the children he had wronged. In my hands. I owe him nothing. I have every right to hate him, I want to.

But I can't. Not now. Not ever. I never could. He never wanted to hurt me. Even in the end, despite everything, he had tried to make it up to me. I look at him and I see a man who has given up his own conscience, who has steeled himself to make the hard decisions others couldn't, or wouldn't. The decisions I couldn't, wouldn't. I see a man who has become the very thing he was determined to destroy. I see a man who had given up his family to protect these children. To create a better world for them to live in. I can blame his choices but I cannot blame him. I know about having something you want to protect. I can see why Mother could never forgive him. We were not enough. We were never enough. But I can see why she loved him too.

 _I wish I didn't understand why you do the things you do._

He has made his choice. And I have made mine. He had erased my identity, my happiness, my pain. And he would go through the same. Now that I remember, I know I do not want the same for him. He cannot protect the children if he does not know what they are to be protected from. He may welcome the absolution of his sins to become a being of love and innocence, but I know it is the worst parts of us, our mistakes, our failings, that remind us of the things that matter most.

"He should not forget."

I wish things could have been different. I wish we had managed to stop the goddesses from being born. Then perhaps those children would still have their families. And I would still have a father. But that path is closed to me now. Perhaps it was never meant to be. I turn away from him as he is transformed by these goddesses into the angel Imshael, the one who suffers for the children.

I know I will forgive him one day, but I just want to stay selfish a little longer. I want to stay me a little longer.


	13. The Light in the Dark (Blackmoon)

**A Blackmoon Tale. Belthar's illithid master Ulthas and Yubel's master Yuven had conspired to take over the elven city. After learning of this, the Heralds rushed to Yuven's laboratory to stop him. But Yuven consumed a dangerous potion given to him by Ishmael and transformed into a terrifying monster of the void. The Heralds fought him and eventually Yuven was defeated. Yuven's regretful last words were addressed to Yubel (now Ori again) before he was erased from the world. Ori flew off on his flying broom and did not return for the rest of the night.**

* * *

The Light in the Dark

 _I'm sorry… Apprentice…_

Ori jolted awake. He must have nodded off again. It took him a moment to remember what had happened, and when he did, he took another swig from his stolen bottle of wine. He had been drinking all night, and probably should have passed on to the next life from alcohol poisoning hours ago. Theoretically speaking, he should have passed out long before he reached that level of intoxication, but he had felt a surge of wild magic during the… anyway he could now drink without getting drunk. Which made the whole point of drinking alcohol in the first place kind of redundant he supposed, but what did he care? At least it made him numb.

"There you are, Red BelBel!" A familiar, bright voice interrupted his moping.

"Who's Red BelBel," he mumbled, but Akshi hadn't heard him in the slightest and skipped up to him. She was very obviously hiding something behind her back, but at that moment, Ori just couldn't bring himself to care.

"Whacha doin?"

Ori didn't respond, just rested his head on his knees. He just wanted to be alone, was that too much to ask?

"Is Red BelBel hurt?"

He felt a small hand pat him on the head and whatever lingering effects the alcohol still had on his body burned away with the healing magic that coursed through him. It felt like morning sunshine beckoning after a good night's rest, but Ori had had a crap night and didn't want to wake up.

"There you go! Do you feel better now, Red BelBel?"

Ori snapped. "Who are you calling Red BelBel? There's no Red BelBel."

He was being rude, he knew it, but he just… hearing that name hurt. He wanted to forget that part of his life. He wanted to burn that self-righteous look off Ishmael's face. He had too much fear, too much darkness in him. Too much hatred burning through his veins. He… couldn't face this child right now.

 _Doesn't mean you have to hurt her._

Luckily, she didn't start crying. That would have made him feel like an even worse person than he already was. Instead, she tilted her head thoughtfully, a little confused.

"But you are Red BelBel."

"No. The other one is Bel- ugh, just don't call me that."

"Then… What should I call you then?"

He sighed. He… No one had called him by his real name for so long.

"Ori," he said finally. "My name is Ori."

"Oh," she nodded, then "Wait!".

She turned around, trying to block his line of vision and added "No peeking!".

Whatever she had hidden behind her back, she now pulled out and began doing something to it. Ori couldn't tell, didn't care. After a few seconds, Akshi turned around to face him again, a smile lighting up her face.

"Okay, all done! I got something for you Ori."

She whipped out the mystery object with a flourish and shoved it in front of his face.

"Tada!"

Ori… was unprepared. Two beats later, he sighed and decided he might as well humour her. He peeled the paper off his face and actually looked. His senses were greeted with an explosion of colour titled "My Family". It was… a drawing. Ori just… stared, for a while. Seeing Ori's mute reaction, Akshi began to explain.

"See, everyone's here. There's Adi riding Steve and there's Tony, Tony is sitting on BelBel, and there's Eli and DanDan and Lucy and Agnes. And here," she said, pointing to the centre of the drawing, "is you and me! See, we're sitting on the flying broom!"

Ori did see. It had clearly been drawn with the artistic capabilities of an eight-year-old. They all had lumpy bodies and sticks for legs, "Red BelBel" had been hastily crossed out and replaced with "Ori" and he was pretty sure an allosaurus did not look like that, but…

She had drawn them all. She had drawn him smiling.

A feeling bubbled up inside him and caught in his throat. He hadn't wanted to feel this. He hadn't wanted to feel… he didn't deserve to feel happy, not when his master was gone forever. He was angry. He was relieved. He was hurt. He… missed him.

"I don't know what to do," he blurted out, voice raw. "I don't know what to do."

His fears, emotions, thoughts, they swirled around him in a mad cacophony and Ori was drowning in them. But then, Akshi's voice broke through.

"Why don't we do what we usually do? Be happy and have fun together."

How was it that children were often the ones who made a lot more sense than adults did? Akshi didn't even understand half of what was going on usually, yet she was often the only one with the answer. It was so simple, so obvious. But… Ori just didn't know how.

"I don't know. I just… everything is just so dark."

At this, Akshi reached out towards him and lightly touched his shirt with a hand. Immediately, a bright, sunny glow began radiating from the fabric. Ori didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. This little girl… she was certainly something. Something very precious to them all. Ori had never thought his life would ever amount to anything. But then he had met the other Heralds, who had reached out to him and accepted him as friend, and Akshi… he never knew life could be so vibrant. He looked down again at the drawing, and Akshi's beaming smile.

He wanted to keep that light in his life. It was time to wake up.

So Ori made the effort to stand. Pins and needles shot through his legs but luckily he didn't fall. He carefully folded the drawing and tucked it into the pocket of his still glowing shirt, close to his heart. Ori didn't believe in sentiment, but… this was a reminder that he wasn't alone. That there was at least still someone in this world who cared for him.

Akshi skipped along in front, bubbles and sparkles floating from her words, and her own two feet rising intermittently off the ground as her tiny wings flapped in excitement. Ori didn't show it, but his heart was smiling wider and wider. Even though his shirt was glowing like a beacon, the little girl leading him by the hand was the brightest thing here.

* * *

 **Author's Note: The last official Blackmoon Tales for a while. The events that have occurred in Blackmoon will still be referenced and developed in future stories, but I am unlikely to come back to these characters in the near future.**

 **Also, if anyone wants to know what "My Family" actually looks like, here is a link:**

 **www. pinterest. /pin /659284832927707514**


	14. A Flower for Your Thoughts

**As Ishmael watches over his daughter, he reflects on his life and choices, and waits for the final pieces of his plan to fall into place.**

* * *

A Flower for Your Thoughts

Ishmael followed behind his daughter as she explored the gardens he had created. There was a lightness in her step as she danced down the path, pausing intermittently to cup a bloom in her hands and breathe in its sweet scent. As they reached the spring flowerbeds, he saw her kneel down and gently touch the petals of that yellow flower.

"They are daffodils," he told her. "They were your mother's favourite."

She looked up at him a little surprised, then a gentle, wistful smile appeared on her face.

"I wish I remembered her better."

She paused for a moment in thought, then stood up again.

"What was… Mother like?"

Ishmael allowed a pained look to appear on his face. He didn't answer. And she didn't push, as he knew she wouldn't. Ishmael had not thought of his wife, his daughter's mother, for a long time.

Though he hadn't been there when his daughter was born, nor while she was growing up, Ishmael had always kept tabs on her and her mother. If anything significant happened, he would know about it. He never interfered though. He had decided that from the beginning. Of course, he'd made sure they were safe in that village before he left. But he hadn't expected his wife to uproot herself from her home and wander the lands with their daughter in tow.

At first, he would check up on them every month, see where they were, how they were faring. But as his plan slowly took form in reality, those check-ups became less and less frequent. He didn't have the time to keep track of his little family on the other side of the world.

It had been almost a year since he last checked on them when one of his more well-traversed informants told him of a commotion in the village Everkeep, where a little half-drow child had been discovered. The family had moved there recently, and the little half-drow had apparently killed one of the village children.

"What became of them?"

"The mother is dead."

A pain shot through Ishmael's heart, but he did not betray it on his face. He could not afford to think about it, not now. Not now.

"And the child?"

"The body wasn't found. She seems to have escaped."

He was… relieved. Perhaps he could bring his daughter here, to grow up with him. She was still a child. He hadn't wanted to bring her into any of this but… He notified his informants in all neighbouring cities to send him any information on orphaned children there. He heard word of her passage through Stanview and Rivermoore. She was heading west. He was getting close. But then… he heard nothing. None of his contacts could tell him anything. There was no trace of her. His daughter, she had simply disappeared. He had lost her. He continued to search for her for a decade after, but eventually he forced himself to stop. He was wasting resources. He had to accept it, his daughter was gone. He needed to focus on protecting the children of this city, right here in Hal-Sharam.

All thoughts of his daughter vanished from his mind for the next century or so until one of his informants told him something interesting. Ishmael had just discovered the location of the rainbow orb in Chult and was preparing to go retrieve it. His contact notified him of a new adventuring party that had arrived in Port Nyanzaru there. The dragonborn, goblin and even tortle made for quite a spectacle, but what caught his attention was the mention of the bard in the group. A bard that was half-drow.

Ishmael knew he was overthinking. Half-drow were rare, but not that rare. But her name was Carmentia Silverthorn. Silverthorn. That couldn't simply be coincidence. He later journeyed to Chult to find the orb, but he kept an eye on that party. On her. Then he discovered she used magic from the Feywild. The Feywild… that changed everything. Everyone knew time flowed differently in the Feywild, and Ishmael had no reliable contacts there. Fey were not such strange creatures, but they were unpredictable.

Word soon travelled that the party would be arriving in the gardens of Nangalore for the black orchid. Ishmael knew there were things he had to do, but he justified it to himself that he still had time. He… had to see her for himself. So he stayed in those gardens a few days more, and welcomed the little bard as she arrived. She had introduced herself as Carmentia.

 _No, it should be Vashenya._

Even without his informants he would have known she was his daughter. She was the spitting image of her mother. Apart from the tips of her ears, the colour of her hair, her skin, she looked nothing like him. But… her eyes. When he looked into them, he saw himself. He saw _her_. They were a perfect blend of them both. But… those violet eyes were sad. And though she tried to hide it, Ishmael could see she was shaken and lost. He wanted to see her smile.

 _"I wish I knew what Mother looked like," Vashenya, Vashenya had confided to him one day. "I don't remember her face at all."_

 _"Your mother has always been right here," he told her. "Every time you look into a mirror, you will see your mother looking back at you."_

 _Perhaps that statement had only been half true at the time. But she had smiled._

He invited his daughter out to an evening stroll in the gardens of Nangalore. Those gardens were dangerous, but she was safe with him. She asked about him, and so he told her his story. The same story he had told her mother. He watched her as she listened, but the entire time, he saw only loneliness, heartache, reflected in her eyes. She hadn't known who he was. Her mother must have never mentioned him. He shouldn't have hoped for more.

He wanted to tell her she wasn't alone, that she still had a father. He wanted to tell her she had always been loved. But that would mean telling her everything. He could not involve her in what he had to do. He did not want her to know the mistakes he made. So he showed her what he could not say.

He offered her the rainbow orb.

She looked at him, surprised, and wary. But he could see she wanted someone to trust. Hesitantly, she reached out for the orb.

 _"Come Vashenya, I have something to show you."_

 _"What is it, Father?"_

 _He pulled out the rainbow orb._

 _"Do you know what this is?"_

 _She hesitated, for just a second, but then shook her head._

 _"This is something called a Tear of Tyranny. It is an artefact that houses powerful beings. There are others, but this one has two gods inside. It is their love that gives it power."_

 _He held it out to her._

 _"Look inside."_

 _She accepted the orb from him into her two hands and gazed into its shimmering surface._

 _"Tell me, what do you see?"_

 _"I see the city. I see all the children here, Barley, Evelyn."_

 _She blinked, pulling back from the depths of the orb. She looked up at him with a smile._

 _"I see us. Right here, right now."_

 _He pulled her into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head. She hugged him back._

 _"I love you, my daughter. Never forget that."_

 _"I love you too, Father."_

When her consciousness returned, she looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes. But she was smiling. It was a small smile, but Ishmael could tell it was real. In her eyes he saw _her_.

She took a small step towards him, hesitated for a moment, but then threw her arms around him in a tight hug. She whispered to him, "Thank you."

He returned the hug, enveloping her in a warm embrace. This might be the only time he would get the chance to hold his daughter like this.

But as much as he wanted this moment to never end, in the end, he had to leave. He gave his daughter and her companions as much aid as he could. Where she was going, it was dangerous. And if she perished on her quest… But Ishmael knew. He could not stop her from going. He knew too well the burden of having a world to save. And Fate had decided he could not interfere.

His hand brushed past the curls that reminded him of _her_. Even in human terms, she was so young. But even though she would always be a girl in his eyes, she had her own life. A life he had not been and could not be a part of. The most he could do was spare her the pain she did not know he had caused her, for now. Ishmael knew, someday when he no longer existed in this world, she would learn everything. But that was not today. Today, he would offer her the comfort she longed for.

He did not stay to see her leave. Perhaps it was for the best. The pieces of his plan were finally coming together, he could not let anything distract him from his purpose. But at least he had had the chance to see her just once.

* * *

Several months passed before he saw his daughter again. He had not thought he would ever see her again. She had returned to him, much changed. And… she no longer had a soul. Her tether to this world had been cut. She had died. But she had returned all the same. Ishmael took this as a sign. He no longer believed in the gods, his gods, who had abandoned his people in their time of need. But he did believe in Fate. It had brought his daughter to him once again. He welcomed her, this time to his own gardens.

Ishmael had given up hope of ever having a family again since he had made his choice. But maybe, his daughter could forgive him. Maybe they could start anew. There was a reason she had come to him. And without her soul no less. Ishmael saw it now. She was destined to be a part of this. She would be the one to build the Panharmonicon. He needed her help as much as she needed his.

So he told her who he was. Who she was. She had been shocked, disbelieving almost. But he could tell she knew it all to be true. He had no reason to lie. He told her his plan. But he hadn't expected her response.

 _"You don't choose who lives and who dies."_

Ishmael remembered those very words from so many years ago. She really was her mother's daughter. He had thought after everything she had seen, everything she had been through, she might come to understand. He tried to persuade her, show her the good he had done for the children, the good they could do for the world, together. But she was just like her mother. She refused to see. He wished he didn't have to, but she left him with no choice. He lifted two fingers to her forehead.

"Forget."

She hadn't been prepared. She barely had a chance to resist before she was pulled under the influence of his magic and collapsed. He caught her as she fell and gently laid her on the ground.

"What did you do to her?!"

Ah, the monk. He wasn't important, not to Ishmael's plan, but… well, he was his daughter's companion. And he was the only one who hadn't abandoned her. Ishmael did not attempt to defend himself as those searing bolts of light struck him. It would have been easy to dispose of the elf. All it would take was one swing from the Blade of Midnight. But… his daughter would be heartbroken. Even though she would not remember, Ishmael… wanted to make it up to her. He wanted to do right by _her_. He took out the black Tear of Tyranny he had taken from his daughter unawares. It was empty now, and had little use, but it could still store souls, and temporary inconveniences.

His daughter's little crew who charged at him were easily drawn into the orb. Loyal to the end, it seemed. He was surprised at the monk's endurance. He had managed to resist the effect. But that was of no matter when his concentration was broken by a stab to the thigh from Evelyn. Ishmael drew his soul too into the black Tear. The drider he swayed easily to his side. Her desires were all too clear.

He had Evelyn take his daughter up to a room as he quelled curious enquiries about the commotion. Evelyn he knew would not ask questions, nor answer any. When he returned to his daughter, he used his magic to alter her appearance. He planned to introduce her as his daughter to the city, and she would enter as the drow Matriarch contestant. It would not do for her to appear to have human blood in her. It would raise too many questions. And there was the small possibility that she would be recognised. Her white curls he made straight, her ears more pointed, her skin darker in shade. Her features he hesitated to change, but in the end he did so. She now more closely resembled his first wife. He had not thought of her, or their son, for hundreds of years. They had both been gone for hundreds of years. Ishmael had moved on. But then he met _her_.

He stayed by his daughter's side and waited for her to come back to consciousness.

After no more than half an hour, her eyes fluttered open. Ishmael was sad he had had to alter that shade of purple, but it was necessary. Slowly, she pushed herself up to sitting and looked around, a little dazed, and more than a little confused.

"Where am I?" she asked, then, realising something amiss, "Who am I?"

"It is alright, Vashenya dear. You are safe."

"Vashenya… is that my name?"

"Yes."

 _As it was always meant to be._

She turned to him.

"Who are you?"

"I am your Father."

"Father… Oh, I'm so sorry! Um, Father. I… why can't I remember?"

"You had been travelling with a party. I do not know where they are now, but something happened, and it hurt you. One of my people found you and brought you to me."

Ishmael looked out into the distance.

"I am sorry. I was not there when you were hurt. I promise I will protect you now."

 _He would protect her this time. He would. He would give her everything she deserved._

Ishmael gave Vashenya, his little Vashenya, a gentle smile.

"Come, let me show you around your home."

* * *

Ishmael had not thought of his daughter's mother for many years. It… helped that now Vashenya no longer looked like her, but it was eerie how much she still reminded him of her. _Melina_. Melina Silverthorn. That was her name. She had been his light. His solace. His hope for a future he could never have. She was the reason for his conviction and pain. The one who had tried to save him. The one good thing in this ruthless world. Ishmael knew, he was not always good. But Melina, she always believed he could be better.

 _If only she knew the things he had done._

But she had always been too kind. This world was not good, there were still a million things he had to do. Ishmael had been unfettered by all but his goal for a long time. It had driven and pushed, and he had been an all-too-willing servant. Yet _she_ bound him in chains that stayed his hand, that tugged at his heart and whispered a thousand possibilities, if only he would stay. She only held him back. Ishmael had chosen to leave. To distance himself from temptation. But that yearning never ceased. He had been… too weak to break free. She made him weak. Though he had erased hundreds of souls from existence with his blade, he could not erase his love for her.

When he found out about her death, he felt something shatter inside him. He had wept. He had grieved. But he had felt… relieved. And then he felt guilt saturate his soul. It dripped from him, thick, heavy. It pooled inside him and congealed into fear. The fear… that he was becoming the very thing he wanted to destroy.

But in the end, none of that would matter. There had to be a reason Fate had set him free. This world was cruel, her death proved that, and Ishmael was the only one who could make things right. He must do whatever it takes. Even if… he had to become the very thing he had set out to destroy. There was no room for doubt. No turning back. There would be no salvation for him. He had long since accepted that.

But sometimes when he sat before the fireplace with his daughter beside him, listening to her hum a new yet familiar tune, he let himself think of the past. Sometimes, in his weaker moments, he wondered what Melina would think if she could see him now. Would she blame him? Would she… hate him?

"Father, are you alright?" Vashenya would ask with such concern, such care in her eyes.

Ishmael knew his daughter would not understand his pain, and he knew he should not have kept her here. Not like this. He needed her for his plan, yes, but he knew the real reason, which he kept buried under thoughts greater than himself, was purely selfish. But… he was grateful for her presence. She brought a spot of true happiness into his life. And Vashenya… she had _her_ smile.

Ishmael watched as his daughter tried to teach her songs to the children. She was different now. She smiled a lot more without the worries and burdens of the world weighing on her. It warmed his heart to see her with that child-like smile, a real smile. He had never seen her smile so freely before. But sometimes he saw her looking out at the gardens in quiet contemplation. Though she smiled, and said the present was what mattered to her the most, he knew that not remembering still bothered her.

 _"Are you happy here, Vashenya?"_

 _"Of course. Why wouldn't I be? The city is so beautiful, and the people here are so nice. Everything I love is right here."_

 _She smiled brightly at him. "And everyone who loves me is here too."_

When he had taken her memories, the official reason was because he needed her compliance for his plan. She would never have agreed otherwise. But the selfish reason was because he had wanted to erase his mistakes from her mind. Start again with a clean slate. And he did. He had another chance.

But… she was different. She was still kind, and sweet, and made the children smile wherever she went. But… she was empty. She went along with his plan, and though he didn't tell her everything, she did as she was told. She had no opinion of her own, only what he had given her. That determination he had seen in her, quieter yet just as fierce as the very same quality he had loved about her mother… when he had sealed her memories of Melina, it seemed he had sealed that part of her too. She was not who she used to be. He… regretted taking that from her.

 _"How is your Gift to the city coming along, Vashenya?"_

 _"I'm not too sure… I've been thinking about it a lot, but I just don't really have any good ideas…"_

 _"Why don't you build an instrument? It could play music for the people and make them feel loved, or at peace."_

 _"That is a wonderful idea, Father! It would make everyone so happy! What should we call it?"_

 _"Why don't you call it the Panharmonicon?"_

As happy and as peaceful as everything had been, Ishmael knew it would not last. This act was nearing its end, and Ishmael had played his part. Already, Vashenya was catching glimpses of her previous life. He would be sad to see that carefree smile disappear from his daughter's face, but eventually, she would remember everything. _She needed to remember._

 _"Father… can I ask you something?"_

 _"Of course."_

 _"What… happened to me? How did I get hurt? Did I… die?"_

 _"Do not worry about it my dear. It is in the past. Just remember you are safe now. In time, the memories will come."_

 _And until then, please, just smile a little longer._

* * *

Everything had gone according to plan. The Panharmonicon had been modified, the rainbow Tear was ready. The new Matriarch he had convinced to destroy the obelisk. And soon, his daughter would remember everything.

But then the children turned against him and everything went to the Nine Hells.

For the first time in a long time, Ishmael was furious. Those fools would ruin everything with their ignorance. Undo all the work he had done with the sacrifices he had made. And his daughter. He had hoped after seeing the dire situation they were in and good he was doing by destroying it all that she would come to agree with him. She didn't. She had tried to talk him out of it too. She was just like her mother. Her kindness had always been her fatal flaw.

He was so close now. He had staked too much on this to lose. He could not let anyone stand in the way. It did not matter who. He would strike them down. That was the fate of the angel of Mithira. That was the fate of his good friend Barley. That would be the fate of the little girl who fancied herself a warrior. His feelings did not matter. They did not matter. None of that mattered in the face of this dream that would soon become reality.

But then he saw his daughter, frozen in terror, holding the fragile future he had worked so hard for in her hands. She looked at him with those eyes. Those gentle eyes that made him weak.

He… could never hurt her.

In the end, everything had been taken out of his hands. The others, his daughter, had come close to destroying the rainbow orb, and the new elven goddesses inside, but that was not the will of Fate. As the goddesses emerged, brilliant and perfect, the very embodiment of love, Ishmael began to weep.

 _Finally_.

He knelt in front of them and surrendered himself to their divine judgement. He had committed terrible sins to create this future for the children. He could not live as he was. He could no longer be Ishmael. He awaited their decision. Whether it be punishment, death or rebirth, he had already accepted it. He only wished to serve them.

 _"Your fate will be decided by the children you made."_

It was only fitting, he supposed. As the children debated amongst themselves, his daughter walked forward and stopped in front of him. For a long time, she did not speak. But the pain in those eyes, violet once more, said everything.

"Haven't I lost enough?"

He had never wanted to hurt her. But in the end, he still did. Ishmael did not regret the things he had done. It had been necessary. It had all been worth it in the end. But he regretted that his daughter had had to suffer because of it. He… regretted that he would never see her smile at him again.

 _I am sorry I could not be the father you deserve._

There was nothing else to say. He awaited his sentence. He expected no mercy. He deserved none.

"He should not forget."

Her voice was quiet, but her words rang clear. It held a kind of fragile strength he could never forget. The goddesses gathered.

 _"It has been decided. He shall rise again as Imshael, the one who suffers for the children. The one who takes on their sins as his own."_

Ishmael wept, and he rejoiced. He had been given another chance at salvation. He looked to his daughter, one last time. She turned away. She was torn, and she was hurt. But she was letting him go. She had always been too kind. Just like Melina. He wished… he could have seen her smile just once more.

"Thank you," he whispered.

 _Thank you, my daughter. Carmentia._

Then Ishmael thought no more.


	15. The Choices We Make

**The story of Melina and Ishmael, Carmentia's parents, and the fleeting convergence of their lives.**

* * *

The Choices We Make

Melina woke up encircled in her husband's warm embrace. Her _husband_. She felt a kiss on the top of her head and looked up into those loving, ruby eyes.

"Good morning, my sun and stars," his deep voice resounded as he pressed a kiss into her lips.

She smiled as she let herself melt into him.

Ishmael was strange. He didn't sleep. The only time Melina had seen him in slumber was when she had found him bleeding out on the ground, barely alive. Melina had to admit. He was terrifying. The forests surrounding him in a 100-foot radius had been razed to the roots. And, he was a drow. She had heard about what remained from drow raids. But she couldn't in good conscience leave him there to die. No matter what, this was still a life. A life Melina had sworn to save when she had taken her oath as a healer all those years ago. She was glad she did.

She had been terrified of him at first. She had grown up on tales of the dark ones rising up from their cities deep below the surface in the middle of the night, stealing away children and adults alike to be slaves, or feed for giant spiders. But Ishmael was nothing like the drow she had heard in stories. She hadn't thought he would be so, human. Of course, then he would do something incredible as though it were second nature to him, and she would be acutely aware of just how different he was. It was strange that Ishmael didn't sleep, but it was nice knowing she had someone watching over her. He always managed to chase her nightmares away.

Melina had come across many men before. Each one of them held the incorrect opinion that Melina could not take care of herself despite living on her own for many years now. And that her opinions on the subject were inconsequential. But Ishmael was different. Every word she said, he listened, attentively. Her thoughts, her opinions, they mattered to him. He made her feel like she could tell him anything.

He remembered what she said too. Melina had only made an offhand remark about how lovely the hills would look when the daffodils bloomed, and the next thing she knew, the little patch of soil in the back that she hadn't had time to tend to was filled with those flowers. Many varieties she had never even seen before. She asked Ishmael where he had gotten them, but he had only given her a knowing smile and told her he was full of surprises. She didn't question it. His very presence was so surreal, sometimes she wondered if it was all just a beautiful dream. They had watched the first blooms open together.

Ishmael had always been charming, but Melina remembered when she had started to fall in love. Ishmael had been under her care for quite a while already, and his wounds were healing well. She thought it would be a good idea to bring him out for some fresh air and a change of scenery. It must have been boring staying inside with only Melina for company when she was home. Ishmael himself never complained, but he didn't refuse her offer. It was admittedly dangerous, but she trusted that he knew to keep a low profile. So he accompanied her into the village centre, disguised as a human traveller while she went on her house calls. That time she had been checking up on little Daylen, whose fever had finally broken after the eighth day. The fact that he had pulled through was nothing short of a miracle. His mother thanked Melina profusely for saving him. Melina thanked Life itself for giving the boy a chance to grow up.

When she walked outside, she'd almost been knocked over by a few children running past her. There on the streets, Ishmael had attracted the attention of the village children and had engaged them in a game of tag. From the squeals and peals of laughter, Melina identified a little girl, Cassidy, as "it". The other children scattered as the girl came near, but she seemed to have a target in mind. She ran after Ishmael, whom Melina was certain was not running as fast as he could. A few steps from him, Cassidy stumbled and tripped, but Ishmael caught her before she fell and graciously acknowledged his defeat. The children crowded around him, clamouring for his attention, and he conceded, laughing with them. He was… mesmerising. Then he looked back at her with a smile. Melina found herself looking away, trying to hide the red creeping up her face. He made her feel… things she had never felt before.

Ever since then Melina found herself noticing little things about Ishmael. The grace with which his fingers glided across the strings of the dusty lute Melina had had forever but had never seen in use. The way his eyes widened just a fraction in incredulity when he was surprised. His gentle smile, and the softness in his gaze as he told the children stories, and now when he looked at her. She could not look away. Even after his injuries had long since healed, Melina found herself making excuses to check on him. She could not remember when she had realised the hammering of her heart inside her was not from fear but from desire. Ishmael didn't ask her what she was checking, and she didn't say. She was terrified that one day he would tell her he had to leave. Melina knew, he was not hers to keep. But still she wanted him to stay.

For the longest time she had wrung her metaphorical hands in frustration. She didn't know how to say what she wanted to say. Ishmael had already lived for innumerable years, hundreds of lifetimes. How could she find the words to tell him she would gladly spend the rest of eternity with him, however long that could be?

Then, he had asked to marry her. She said the only word she still remembered in her surprise. Yes. She had never been happier. Of course, they couldn't be considered husband and wife in the traditional sense. There was no grand ceremony, no one else to witness their love. But she had long been his in every sense of the word, mind, body and soul. She didn't know what it was that Ishmael saw in her, but every word he said, every touch, made her feel like she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

There was just something, magical about Ishmael. He was very handsome. And he was strong. Unimaginably strong. Melina did not consider herself weak by any means, but Ishmael's strength was almost god-like. Sometimes it scared her just how inhuman he seemed. Well, he never was human. He was just so otherworldly, so untouchable. Melina worried that someday she would be left behind on the ground. But then he would kiss her, tease her, and all her fears melted away. He made her feel unafraid. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that he was hers. Ishmael was _hers_.

Time flew by with him by her side. Every day was beautiful. They had settled into a comfortable routine. She liked the evenings they spent together the best. Sometimes he would play music, and she would sing. Sometimes he would tell her stories. But most of the time they would sit side by side, simply enjoying each other's company. Those few months had been the happiest times of her life.

Ishmael had always loved children, as did she, so naturally it had been something they'd discussed. She had been a little worried about the safety of their children, people still feared the drow after all. But Ishmael assured her everything would be alright. She believed him. As long as he was here, she was not afraid.

When she discovered she was pregnant, she had been ecstatic. She had known about half-elves, but she hadn't realised it would be so… easy. She couldn't stop herself smiling as she told Ishmael the good news. He had been… surprised. Just a little. He put down the book he had been reading and knelt next to her, placing a hand over her abdomen with a gentle smile on his face.

"Our little Vashenya," he said, pressing a kiss to her middle.

"Hey, it's too early to know yet. What if it's a boy?"

"Why don't you pick a name too?"

"Alright then. Well, if it's a boy, let's call him Kieran. And if it's a girl, we'll call her Vashenya."

But after the initial euphoria subsided, Melina started to sense a… feeling that she just couldn't shake. She hadn't noticed it at first, but as their lives fell into complacency, the feeling only grew. And Ishmael… he was still as attentive as always, but lately, he seemed to have a lot more on his mind. More often than not, Melina found him standing by the window with a distant look in his eyes. She would sneak up behind him, surprise him with a kiss and ask him what he was thinking. And he would smile and tell her not to worry. But that look never fully went away.

She tried not to worry. She tried to give him space. He had been through things she couldn't begin to imagine after all. Melina had always known there were things Ishmael didn't tell her. And she didn't push. Though sometimes she wished she knew what was troubling him, so she might grant him peace of mind, she believed he would tell her in his own time when he was ready. But even though he was right here, right now, in her arms, he seemed miles away. He was slipping away from her, and she didn't know why. Melina didn't know what to do. She was… afraid.

Then he called her one evening and said he had something to tell her. Melina sat down on the seat next to him as she normally did, but it was clear to them both that this was anything but normal. As she waited for Ishmael to speak, she couldn't ignore that pervading feeling creeping up her spine.

He told her everything.

He told her about a land far away, where the actions of his people, the wrongs they had committed against children, had left a stain on his soul that he could never wash away. He told her about artefacts from a distant past, seals that kept the stuff of nightmares at bay, and people who would stop at nothing to unleash destruction upon the world. He told her his plan. He would gather all these powers at the last elven city, the last obelisk, the last seal. He would build a machine that could channel all those powers and siphon away the life from all the adults in the city. Then finally he would birth goddesses from all those elven souls. Goddesses that could protect the children he owed everything to.

Melina had been more shocked than anything. This sounded nothing like the Ishmael she knew. This sounded nothing like the Ishmael she loved.

"No!" She cut him off abruptly. "No, you can't do this."

He seemed surprised at her response. "Why not?"

 _How could he not see?_

"This isn't right. These are people's lives you're talking about. Families. You'll be leaving all those children without their parents."

"The new goddesses will be their parents."

"It's not the same!"

"They will be doomed to die either way. The Silence will not rest until they have the obelisks. And the elves will not abandon their city. They will die fighting a war they never had any hope of winning. At least this way their lives will be used to secure the future for their children."

Melina couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had never seen this side of him before. He… scared her.

 _How could she make him understand?_

"These people are innocent, Ishmael. Their lives are theirs to decide. You don't choose who lives and who dies."

"This is for the greater good."

"This is madness!"

For a moment Melina thought she saw a shift in Ishmael's expression, but then he closed himself off again.

"Please stop. I don't want to fight with you. I have already decided."

"So you're just telling me that you're leaving?"

His voice was quiet, vulnerable almost. "You can come with me."

His words sent a rush of indescribable feelings through her. He still wanted her to be a part of his future. He wanted to be with her. Her heart yearned to leap into his arms and let him take her somewhere, anywhere, so long as she could stay by his side. But she had vowed to save lives, not take them. She shook her head.

"Not like this. Never like this."

He did not speak for the longest time. Finally, he stood up.

"I have to leave."

 _What?_

"Ishmael?"

He did not answer.

"Ishmael!"

He turned away. But not before Melina caught a glimpse of the man she loved in those torn eyes. He didn't want to do this, not really. But he felt he had no choice. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"Please, don't do this Ishmael. I know you don't really want things to turn out this way. I know you don't want to hurt people. Please, don't hurt yourself like this."

"There is no other way."

"There is always another way."

He spun around and seized her shoulders. "What other way? Tell me, Melina."

"We'll figure something out."

He sighed. "I have been planning this for a thousand years. If there was a better alternative, I would have found it already. I have a duty to my people, to those children. I cannot abandon my duty now."

She picked up his hand and rested it on the growing child within her.

"What about _your_ child? What about us?"

His expression was unreadable. He said nothing.

"Your duty is here, with your family. With us. The world is not your burden to take on. You have done enough. You deserve to be happy. You can be happy here. We could be enough."

She took a deep breath.

"I don't pretend to know what you've been through. I don't pretend to know what dangers there are waiting outside. I don't pretend to know the worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind. None of that matters to me. But I know you. I know in my heart that I love you. I know in my heart that you love me, our family. Please, I don't want our child to grow up without a father."

She tentatively cupped his face in her hands.

"Ishmael, just… stay. Stay here. Stay alive. That's all I ask."

A moment passed in stillness as Melina searched for answers in those ruby eyes. Then Ishmael leaned down and kissed her deeply, pulling her to him in a tight embrace. Relief flooded her body. She had gotten through to him. He chose them. He chose her.

She fell asleep to the lullaby of his steady heartbeat.

* * *

Ishmael watched as Melina rested. Sleep. It was a foreign experience to him. But he was content to just see her here in his arms. The darkness did not hide her from him. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her breaths. In. Out. In. Out. He counted them. Three, four, five… It brought him a kind of peace he had not felt in a long time. Ishmael thought back to what had brought him to this point.

For hundreds of years, he had been mad. He had only one purpose; to erase all adults and the sins they had committed from this world and build it up again from the hopes and dreams of children. To make them pay for the suffering they had caused. It was what kept him alive. It was what he would gladly give his life for. To that end he had done anything and everything. Sometimes he helped people. Sometimes he destroyed everything in his path. This had been one of those times. But then he had woken up to an unfamiliar wooden ceiling, his wounds treated but not healed. He was confused. It was not what he last remembered. He pushed himself up to sitting, trying to make sense of everything. And then he saw _her_. She was carrying a basket of clean bandages and stared back at him in equal surprise. A human. Her fiery hair was the first thing that caught his attention. But before Ishmael could speak, she beat him to it.

"Don't be afraid!"

She hid it well, but she was more afraid herself. She put the basket on the floor and tentatively took a step towards him, hands out as though calming a wild animal.

"You're safe here. This is my home. You were hurt when I found you. So I treated you and brought you here."

Ishmael had to give it to her. She was brave. As much as it caused him grief, he knew the reputation his kin had established for themselves. And if she had found him where he had fallen… well, her fear was certainly well justified.

"How do you feel? …Do you understand me?"

He gave her a smile of reassurance.

"To whom do I owe my thanks?"

He watched her breathe out a small sigh of relief at his response.

"My name is Melina."

 _Melina_.

"What's yours?"

"I am Ishmael."

She smiled. It was as though a sun had flared into existence in the room.

"You must be hungry. Give me a minute. I'll get something for you."

She was gone before Ishmael could say another word. Well, at least there was no immediate danger. He finally took the time to survey his surroundings. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters. A few shelves along one wall held an assortment of various glass and ceramic jars, as well as a mortar and pestle in one corner. The room was small, but there was good ventilation through the open window. Ishmael himself had been lying on a simple wooden cot, one among two in the room. It seemed Melina was a local apothecary.

Ishmael wasn't sure exactly how long he had been unconscious, but it should not impact his plans too greatly. At most, this would just be a minor setback. But still, he needed to keep going. He swung his legs over the side of the cot and tried to stand. He almost fell over. He braced himself against a nearby table and pushed himself up. It was… painful, but he could manage. He had dealt with worse.

"What are you doing?"

Ishmael looked up to see Melina standing in the doorway, a bowl of porridge in her hands and shock on her face.

"Thank you for your service. I have urgent business to attend to and must leave now. You will be repaid later."

"You are in no condition to even walk right now. What is so urgent that you have to risk your life for it?"

"I am fine. Thank you for your concern."

"No, you are not fine!"

Ishmael was… momentarily speechless. Melina set down the bowl on the little table and crossed her arms.

"Ishmael, you are not going anywhere until you have recovered. So you better sit down right now and get started. You've defeated an entire forest already. Defeating a bowl of porridge should not be an issue."

It was amusing to say the least. Melina didn't look a day past twenty-five, and Ishmael had lived at least a hundred times as long, yet she still managed to make him feel like a child being reprimanded. She was certainly interesting. Ishmael decided to humour her for now.

He sat back down and began to eat the bowl of porridge she set in his hands. She was watching and making sure he ate every spoonful. Finally, once he was done, she took the bowl back from him and hauled over the basket of bandages. At her instruction, Ishmael adjusted his position and she began changing his bandages, hands quick and efficient. He felt her breathe out a sigh of relief as she inspected his wounds before wrapping them up again.

"You're lucky you're still alive," she commented after noticing his watchful gaze on her. "You lost a lot of blood."

"You should not have saved me."

Melina paused for a moment in her work and looked at him with a strange expression. "If I hadn't, you would be dead," she pointed out, all matter of fact.

She tucked in the tail of the bandage and dropped the bloodied ones into a tub of cold water in the corner of the room. The water turned pink as she scrubbed them clean.

Ishmael finally spoke again.

"Why?"

She gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you save me? You owe me nothing."

"Everyone has the right to live."

"Everyone?" Ishmael asked. "Even those who have taken away that right from others? Even those who have committed unspeakable crimes against innocents? Do they really deserve that right?"

He did not know why he even indulged her. She was merely a human, naïve and inexperienced in the true ways of the world.

She seemed caught off guard by his sudden intense questioning. But still, she answered, "Who am I to decide who is deserving of life?" She sighed as she began to wring out the water from the fabric. "I don't know what those crimes may be, but I do know that those people can't become better if they're dead."

Ishmael studied this curious woman.

"You are young still. You do not know people like I do. You should know they never truly change."

"Perhaps." Melina stood up, the bandages in her hands clean once more. As Ishmael looked into those deepest blue eyes, he found something familiar, and yet so different.

"I may not know people, but I do believe in them," she said. "And even if people can't change, you can still be the best you that you can be."

Ishmael could have found a way to heal himself immediately; healing potions were not a scarce resource for him. That was what he should have done. It was dangerous to be weak. But Melina had treated his wounds with such thought and attention, it would have been ungrateful to refuse her care when she had saved his life.

Ishmael could have returned to his plans and left a bag of gold in his place, enough for Melina to live comfortably for the rest of her life. That was what he should have done. But… she intrigued him. So, he decided to stay a little longer. Just a few days perhaps. He still had time. Despite what Melina said, she could not keep him here if he truly wanted to leave.

So Ishmael stayed, and he asked Melina how he could repay her. But to his surprise, she refused his offer, claiming that saving a life was reward enough. He did not believe her. No one could be so… good.

"There must be something I can do for you."

She studied him. "Maybe when you're better. Then we'll talk."

They did talk in the meantime, about other things. And Ishmael continued to ask her what he could do every time she changed his bandages. Eventually, Melina gave him an answer.

"Well, if you insist, you can pay me back in stories."

"Stories?" Ishmael was quite amused.

"Yes, stories." She smiled at him, a sparkle in her eyes daring him to challenge her. "You seem like you have quite a few to tell."

So he told her his story. Some things he omitted of course, it hurt too much to think of them. She had listened, absolutely captivated. And in return she had offered him comfort, understanding. He could not understand her. He was nothing to her. He did not deserve her empathy. But somehow, being there with her, the pain became easier to bear.

Over the next few months as his injuries healed, and several more months after that, Ishmael learnt much about this woman named Melina Silverthorn. She was kind, and selfless, and so full of life. But she also had a backbone of adamantium. She didn't take nonsense from anyone.

Sometimes she reminded him of someone he had lost long ago, his wife, in a time when he had still been a prince of his people. When he had still believed in his people. Ashtera had been his quiet strength, a shadow by his side. Ishmael had once thought he would spend the rest of his life with her. But then she had died, by the hands of her people, and had taken all the colour from his life with her. Ishmael had accepted this ashen reality after the first three hundred years. But when Melina entered his life, she left a blazing trail in her wake and set those dying embers alight.

Ishmael had spent so long in single-minded focus on his goal, his plan. But Melina, she reminded him of what it was that he wanted to protect. The way her eyes lighted up as they watched the first daffodil buds slowly unfurl. The wonder in her gaze as he showed her the simplest cantrip. Her smile. Her laugh. Ishmael had thought he had long become accustomed to the cold beauty of the world. But it was different with Melina by his side. She pointed out to him the smallest things with such joy and delight. With her, everything seemed new. She made the world seem brighter, kinder. She found beauty in everything. In everyone. Ishmael knew he was a flawed man. He was not blameless. Perhaps he was not even good. But she saw the good in him. Melina did not care for what had happened in his past. She did not worry about what the future held. She lived very much in the present, and that was what made her so alive. For the first time in a very long time, Ishmael felt alive. She made him feel, Gods, she made him feel. She was the answer to the question he had never thought to ask. The key to a puzzle he had never even known existed. The piece he hadn't realised was missing from his life. She made him feel complete. She made him feel like… he belonged.

He told her as much and she laughed.

"You sound like you're saying your marriage vows."

"Why not?"

He was met with stunned silence.

"…What? You…"

"Why not?" he repeated as he got up from where he sat on the bed and strode up to her.

"Will you marry me, Melina Silverthorn?"

It took her a moment to register the sincerity of his words.

"Are you serious?"

He took her hands into his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Whenever am I not?"

"Then yes." She smiled. "Yes, I will marry you, Ishmael."

They were bound under an oak tree in the fading light. The world was their witness. Ishmael had once thought belonging was a weakness. But when he saw Melina smile that radiant smile at him, cheeks pink from the cold perhaps, or maybe from warmth, he knew he wanted to belong to her. That night when he held her in his arms as she fell asleep, for a brief moment he thought, maybe he could stay.

He should have known the peace would not last. It had never been his intention to hide, but in the end, he was still found. The raven was perched on a wooden paling above the bed of daffodils. A message from the Silence. It had been too long since they'd heard from him, it said. They wanted to know what progress he had made. All his half-finished objectives resurfaced in his mind. He still had to establish himself in Hal-Sharam, make it a safe haven for children. He still had to find the rainbow Tear, his entire plan hinged around that artefact, otherwise it would all be for nought. He still had to build the Panharmonicon. He still had to…

But then he felt Melina's arms around him, and all his worries disappeared as her warmth and comfort washed over him. That evening as they curled up in front of the fire, his head in her lap, she asked him if he wanted children.

Ishmael had spent so long trying to right the wrongs of his people, to rectify the atrocities they had committed, the innocent lives they had taken. Everything he did, it was all for those children. But… it would be nice to have a child of his own again. He took out the message. He could stay here with Melina, watch their child grow up. He held the scrap of paper over the fire. He had lived a long life already. He could give up his immortality, settle down here, grow old with her. That could be enough. He looked down again at the message in his hand. Maybe… not just yet.

He thought he could put it all behind him. But, living in that little village in the middle of nowhere, he grew restless. He had his new wife, and now their unborn child. But his contacts still let him know the developments happening on the other side of the world. They asked for his counsel, his aid, his presence. He couldn't let go. He couldn't put it behind him. He had come too far. He could not abandon his plan now. He was torn. He wanted this future he had built with Melina. But he knew what he was Fated to do. Melina had been something unforeseen, an anomaly he had not considered. She had changed him, tempered his coldness, his ruthlessness in her flame. She had opened his heart once again to mercy, kindness, love. But that did not change the task Fate had placed in his hands. His desires tore him up inside and consumed his thoughts day and night as he weighed up the consequences in his mind. But he knew, he could not linger forever. And Melina had started to notice. She didn't say anything, but he saw worry flicker in her eyes whenever he told her he was fine.

"What are you thinking?" she asked one day as they looked down upon the town from the daffodil hills.

"Just small matters of the past. Nothing to worry about."

She fell silent again, as she often did nowadays. Then she lifted her head from its place on his shoulder. She reached out and plucked a late-blooming daffodil.

"A flower for your thoughts?" she asked, presenting it to him.

He responded with a kiss and wove the flower into her hair. It was as striking as she was beautiful. He couldn't bear the thought of living without her smile.

As summer passed, Ishmael debated over what he should do. Finally, he made his decision. He had to go. He had to finish this. But he would bring Melina with him. He hadn't wanted to involve her. He didn't want to put her or their unborn child in danger. But at least if they were by his side, he could protect them.

So last night he told her everything. She had listened to it all with shock on her face. Ishmael had had it all planned out. But the one thing he hadn't foreseen was that she would refuse to go with him.

 _How could she not see?_

He explained it all to her, this was something he had to do, this was the only choice he had. This was all for the children. He thought she would understand. She didn't. She tried to talk him out of it too. She begged him to stay and looked at him with those eyes… He couldn't say no to those eyes. He sighed. The things she did to him. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. He couldn't see colours in the dark, but he remembered. Her hair was red. Not the blood-red of drow eyes, his eyes, but red like fire, like the sun. She was the sun and the stars. She brought such beauty, such light into his life. He loved her completely. He would gladly spend the rest of his eternity like this.

But… He slid his arms out from their place around her, careful not to disturb her rest.

He could not afford to be selfish any longer.

Melina would never understand. She would never agree with him. She would only hold him back. He could not stay. He wished he didn't have to leave her behind, but perhaps it was for the best. She shouldn't get tangled up in this.

He stood up and pulled on his clothes. She would be fine without him. She was strong, he knew she was. And she would be safe here, he'd made sure of it. No one would cause her trouble. He packed up what little belongings he had and returned everything else to its rightful place. When he was done, he returned to the bedroom he shared with his wife, for the last time.

As he sat down on the edge of the bed, he looked over her, committing all of it to memory. Every curve, every strand of hair. His eyes paused over her growing middle. His daughter. Melina had been adamant it was too early to tell, so Ishmael humoured her. But he knew it would be a girl. He had yet to meet his daughter, Vashenya, but he already knew he loved her with all his heart. Ishmael had no need for sleep, but he had dreamed of his daughter once, many centuries ago. He knew now where that softness he had seen in her came from. For many nights now, he had imagined seeing her grow up, teaching her, playing with her. But little Vashenya needed to be with her mother. And Melina would never leave with him. He felt regret at being unable to welcome his daughter into this world. But once his work was complete, he would be able to welcome her into the new paradise he will have created. He knew, they would meet again someday.

His thoughts turned to his wife again. He knew he should leave no trace, no memory of himself. Save her the pain he knew she would most certainly feel. That was the kindest thing he could do. But… Ishmael admitted it. He was weak. She made him weak. And so, he allowed himself this one indulgence. He wanted just one person in the world who remembered him, who loved him. He would not have that ever again.

From a part of his mind, Ishmael was aware of the night fading, too quickly. He had to leave, now, before those gentle eyes tempted him to stay. He hoped she could forgive him. But if she couldn't… well… he had made his choice.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her slumber.

Then he kissed her, one last time, and disappeared.

* * *

Melina woke up to rays of light shining through her window and the sound of birdcalls outside. She was enveloped in warmth. But… the space beside her was empty.

"Ishmael?"

She sat up in bed.

"Ishmael."

There was no answer.

A knot of fear formed in her chest, but she pushed it down and reassured herself that everything was fine. He was probably just taking care of things around the house. She would find him. Melina threw on a loose shift and went out in search of her husband. He wasn't in the kitchen making breakfast as he usually did. He wasn't reading in his seat by the fireplace. He wasn't standing in his spot by the window where he would look out at the garden and the bustle of colour he had carefully raised by hand.

"Ishmael!"

She looked through every room. Each one was set out as though it had never seen his touch. With every step the dread within her only grew. Finally, she opened the front door and desperately scanned the path leading to the world outside. There was no trace of him. No sign he had ever entered her life at all. It was as though the past year had only been a dream… No. Her hand flew to her abdomen. It wasn't a dream. There was still a life growing inside her, she felt it.

With all the signs glaring her in the face, she could no longer deny the truth. He was gone. When he'd kissed her and held her tight, it wasn't a promise to stay.

It was because he was saying goodbye.

She gripped the doorframe to steady herself as the initial shock wore off. Slowly, she sank to the ground. Pain, betrayal, grief, all that welled up to the surface again and she began to cry. She hated the world for taking him away from her. She hated him for leaving her. But in the end, she hated herself. She hated herself for being naïve enough to think she would ever be enough for him. She thought she knew his heart. It seemed she never knew him at all.

"Ishmael! I will never forgive you! Do you hear me? Never! Never. Never…"

But Melina was a woman of common sense and she could not cry forever. Eventually, her tears eased, and she started to think logically. Her child was the most important thing now. Though she could cover up for a while, she was already starting to show. People were going to ask questions, and if they found out, things would not look good for her, or her child. She had to leave, soon. She stood up and wiped the salt tracks from her face. She would not shed another tear for _him_. She refused to become a tragic figure in her own story. She had to stay strong for her child, for the both of them.

Her mind whirring faster than ever, she walked into each room again and collected her possessions. Her medical supplies, warm clothes for the coming winter, enough food to last her the journey to the next town. All the gold she had saved she sewed into her clothes. She packed only the things she needed. She had never been sentimental anyway. Finally, when everything was prepared, she tied it all into a cloth bundle, secured it around herself and stepped over the threshold.

Thirty feet from the door, she looked back at the only place she had ever known. The place that had been the centre of all her joys and all her sorrows. The place where he had loved her, and she had loved him. But… her hand came to rest on her abdomen. He has made his choice. And she has made hers.

She stepped onto the path, and never looked back again.


	16. The Stories Never Told

**To mothers, the ones who love unconditionally, the ones whose stories we never hear and the heroes we aspire to be.**

* * *

The Stories Never Told

Melina had never been this far from the place of her birth. She had never seen so much of the world before. So many things were new to her. She came across rivers so wide they needed boats to cross. She came across flower-filled plains that stretched on for miles, as far as the eye could see. But… she didn't have the luxury to stay and marvel at these wonders. She had to keep moving.

Eventually she had travelled far enough that only a few had even heard of her village. Melina would have liked to keep going, she had heard the people of the south were more tolerant of other races. But her child was not growing any smaller, or lighter for that matter, and it was dangerous for anyone to be travelling on the road alone. Let alone a pregnant woman. She had been travelling along busy roads as much as possible, and so far, she had been lucky enough to avoid being attacked or robbed. But she didn't want to tempt fate. So, the next town she came across, she went in search of a place to stay.

The town was bigger than her village had been. It had an inn, but that was far too expensive and not the kind of place she needed. Not enough privacy. But if she rented a place, again there was the cost consideration, but it would also be problematic when her child arrived. She wasn't sure she would be able to deliver her child by herself. She definitely would not be able to afford a place, and even if she could, she knew she could not stay.

As Melina pondered the advantages and disadvantages, she found an old woman struggling with unloading bags of what appeared to be medical supplies from her cart. It seemed she was a doctor too. Melina moved to help her.

As the last bag was unloaded past the threshold of the modest cottage, the old woman turned to Melina with a bright smile, skin crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

"Thank you so much my dear. What is your name?"

"It's no trouble at all, I'm happy to help. I'm Melina. And you are Ms…"

"Oh, Hanae is fine. Say, I haven't seen you around town before. Are you new here?"

"Yes, I have just come in. I have been travelling for a while."

Hanae's eyes flickered past Melina's shoulder before returning to her.

"By yourself?"

"Well, my husband is no longer with me and…," her hand came to rest on her growing stomach. "We need a place to stay."

The woman's eyes widened as she saw what Melina's travelling cloak had been hiding.

"Oh my, you really shouldn't have exerted yourself so! Come, come. There is room enough at my place. When is this little one coming along?"

"Two months or so I think," Melina answered as Hanae ushered her into her cosy little home.

"Well you can stay as long as you need to get back on your feet, alright dear?"

Melina tried to help Hanae where she could, though the older woman simply refused to let her do anything remotely taxing. Melina protested a little in the beginning, but she was very grateful for everything Hanae did for her. Carrying her child around all day took a lot out of her. And no matter how hard she tried, she never managed to get much sleep at night.

Melina had been plagued with nightmares ever since she was young. Her parents had taken her to many healers over the years, but no one could ever find a cure, or a cause. The dreams were always the same. There was a monster lurking in the dark. She couldn't see anything except its blood-red eyes, and she knew it would hurt her. Every time she pleaded, begged it not to… not to…. But in the end, every time it would tear her heart into shreds, and she would wake crying. It wasn't something she could change, so she learned to live with it. At least she knew that dreams couldn't really hurt her. She became better at dealing with them as she grew older, and they became less frequent. (Strangely, the nightmares never came when _he_ was with her)

But now, they had returned full force. It had changed though. She could never recall much of it, but she remembered the forceful whispers that burrowed into her at every turn. _Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive._ She would scream. And then she would wake up with a start, and a pain in her heart. But her child always seemed to sense her distress. And it would move around in her womb with great urgency until Melina snapped out of her thoughts and laid a reassuring hand over it.

"It's okay sweetheart. Don't be afraid. Mother's here."

Sometimes she didn't know who she was really comforting.

Weeks passed. Her child would be arriving soon. And she still hadn't told Hanae the truth about her child. She knew she needed to. Hanae had to know what to expect when the time came. But she didn't know what to say. From what she had heard in her few outings in town, the people here weren't quite forgiving of other races. She didn't know how Hanae would react.

It was agonizing. But in the end, she told Hanae the truth. She knew it was dangerous, but she was sure Hanae at least wouldn't turn her away. Melina was sad to see the woman's warm smile fade, but it was better than deceiving her till the end.

"Oh, you poor thing. That monster tricked you, didn't he?"

"Yes," Melina whispered. "He did."

"My dear, why didn't you… when you found out… you could have…"

Melina understood what Hanae was trying to say. Melina was a healer herself. There was no way she wouldn't have known a method to cut her pregnancy short. But she had already been too far along in her pregnancy. And even if that hadn't been the case… She placed her hands over the child growing inside her.

"I wanted them. And I know he… it doesn't matter what happened. It is still my child. None of this was their fault. They have the right to live too."

She knew Hanae wouldn't understand. To be fair, Melina herself wasn't sure what the truth was anymore. Hanae shook her head.

"I admire your compassion dear. But that kindness of yours is going to be the death of you one day."

Melina remained silent. Hanae sighed.

"Look, none of this is your fault. But the people here may not be so understanding. You know you cannot stay."

Melina nodded. "I know. Nowhere will truly be safe for us."

The silence stretched between them, until finally Hanae spoke again.

"You know, I have heard tales of a city of half-elves in the west. I do not know if it is true nor if they will accept you or… your child… but half-elves are more tolerant than most. There mayhap be a chance you will be safe there."

She gave Melina a weak, but fond, smile.

"I did so very much look forward to a little one running around this place again. I am sorry this is all I can do."

"You have done enough. This is already more than I could ask for."

* * *

It was deep winter when her child arrived in this world. Melina's screams blended with the wailing of the winds and snow outside. The birth had been difficult, but she had been luckier than most. Her trial finally ended in the early hours of twilight as another voice joined her cries.

"Breathe, you are alright now, dear. You have a little girl."

"My child-"

"Do not fret, she's healthy."

Hanae wrapped the child in a few more layers of cotton cloth before bringing her over to Melina. Melina's heart fell when she saw the dusting of silver on her daughter's skin and the tufts of white peeking out from the top of her head. She had prayed her daughter might against all odds look more like her. Then she might have a better chance at living a proper childhood. It would be much more difficult to hide her, to protect her now. But the moment she held her in her arms, she knew nothing could ever be more precious to her. This was her daughter. Her sweet child. The one made for her to love.

"Shh, sweetheart. Mother's here."

As soon as Melina's arms wrapped around the little bundle, the child immediately quietened down, seemingly sensing her mother's loving presence. And then she opened her eyes. Melina fell in love with those eyes.

"She has beautiful eyes, does she not?"

"She does," Melina whispered.

While her daughter's colouring was far more like… her father… her eyes were a gentle lavender.

"Do you have a name for her?"

Grief stabbed through her heart.

 _Vashenya… No, he left us. He has forfeited his rights to my daughter. He does not get to have any say in her life._

"Hanae," she finally declared.

"Her name is Hanae."

Melina saw the elder Hanae's face soften for a moment, before worry quickly took root once more.

"Remember, you can stay until you are strong enough to move. People will talk as soon as the weather holds though."

Melina stayed for three days more. She didn't dare stay longer. The blizzard was clearing up, but there was no telling when it would return, and the next town was several days away. It had been by a stroke of luck that Hanae had managed to find a trader heading in that direction who was willing to take Melina there.

Wind stirred the fresh snow as they embraced and bid each other goodbye for the last time. Then Melina picked up her newborn daughter, wrapped up as warm as possible, and climbed onto the back of the wagon with Hanae's assistance.

"I wish you and your daughter well."

"Thank you, Hanae, for your help."

* * *

The journey was tiring, but thankfully the trader didn't ask questions. He dropped her off at the town gates and left without a word. Melina, she kept moving. She wanted to bring Hanae to that city of half-elves. For several months they moved from town to town. Sometimes they stayed in a place for a week. Sometimes not even a day.

But Melina needed to work. What little money she had brought with her had already been spent. And they both needed food and a roof over their heads. They began to stay longer in each town, a few months at a time, until Melina had saved up enough money for them to move again. It would have been cheaper, and easier, to live in a communal dwelling, with other single mothers and their children, but with Hanae looking as she did, it was too risky. A half-elf drew enough attention as is. Let alone a half-drow.

As much as it hurt her to sneak out of the room after she had sung Hanae to sleep and lock the door behind her, Melina steeled her heart and forced herself to leave her daughter and go to whatever work she had managed to find. Hanae would be scared without her there, she knew, but she had to be sure she wouldn't wander around. She was too young. She wouldn't understand. It would be too dangerous. But soon, perhaps. Hanae learnt fast, faster than Melina thought possible for a child her age. She was only a year old, but already she knew to be quiet when she needed to. That was the only reason Melina dared to leave her in the room alone. She would cry, and it would break Melina's heart when she returned, but she wouldn't make a sound. She wouldn't draw unwanted attention.

* * *

As cruel as life could be, at least it had given her such a beautiful girl as her daughter. Hanae was a good child. She was obedient, and never gave Melina any trouble. She was only three, yet she already had an air of maturity about her. She didn't cry anymore when Melina left her in the room alone. She knew that her mother would leave, but she would always come back. After Melina taught her to read, Hanae was hooked. There were rarely books suitable for children, but Melina did her best to bring them back for her daughter. They were all devoured within days.

One quiet winter evening as they sat in front of the fire, Hanae asked about her father. Melina had been brushing her fingers through her daughter's silvery-white curls, and the question had caught her off guard. She knew Hanae would ask someday, but when the time actually came, she didn't know what to say to her daughter. There was a chance Hanae would understand, but…

She didn't need the pain of knowing what her father had done.

"Mother? Mother? Are you alright?"

Seeing worry fill those gentle, violet eyes, Melina snapped out of her thoughts and gave Hanae a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine sweetheart, just a little tired. Come, it's time for you to go to bed. We'll need to wake up early tomorrow to start moving."

She watched over Hanae as she slipped into the realm of dreams. She couldn't lie. It hurt every time she saw her daughter. She was a constant reminder of things Melina would rather forget. But no matter what they went through, Melina had never once regretted having her. She was all Melina had, and that was enough.

When she had given birth to Hanae, she had been slipping in and out of consciousness from the pain. She had been terrified. In her half-conscious state, she had thought _he_ might have been by her side, holding her hand, telling her everything would be alright. But then a jolt of pain would wake her up to the reality that no one was there, that he had chosen to leave. She had never felt so alone. She hated herself for feeling that way. Only the thought of seeing her child had given her the strength to hold on.

She didn't think she could ever forgive him. She had built him a space inside her heart, and in the end, he had torn himself away, leaving her raw and bleeding. But at the same time, every night when she woke from those nightmare haunted dreams and the world seemed so big, so empty… It was lonely. She missed waking up to warm arms around her. In truth, she had only known him for about a year, and yet, it often felt like she had known him all her life. She wished… she wished there wasn't so much between them.

Hanae never asked about her father again.

* * *

When Hanae was five, Melina taught her how to cook. She was barely taller than the pot, but still she did her best to help. She started helping Melina with her work too. As they travelled from one town to another, Melina would point out the plants growing in the nearby fields and forests and tell her which ones could be used to ease a fever, which ones could treat an infection, and which ones were deadly poison if used incorrectly. Hanae listened to it all with full attention, always so eager to learn.

Melina began to buy dyes and skin paint. There was nothing she could do about Hanae's eyes, but as long as they could cover up her skin and hair, Melina could take her outside and let her interact with other people. Sometimes she would leave Hanae in the library. Sometimes she would bring her along with her to work.

Red dye was more expensive, but sometimes, Melina wanted to pretend her daughter was just that, hers. Sometimes, it just hurt too much to look at her, because all she could see was _him_. But at least when she walked into town holding her daughter's painted hand and looked down at a head of red that wasn't quite the right shade, she could pretend, for just a few hours, that she was just any other mother going to the markets with a little version of herself, made from a love that still lived.

* * *

When Hanae turned eight, Melina finally decided she was responsible enough to go outside on her own. Melina couldn't keep her inside forever. And there was just too much work to be done. But most importantly, she was determined that Hanae would get the chance to be a child. So even though it was risky, she encouraged her to play with other children her age whenever she could. Her daughter knew the dangers. And she was always careful. So she instructed Hanae on what to do, how to avoid unwanted attention, what to say when questions were asked. Hanae listened and promised to be careful. As long as she returned before dark, she would be safe.

Hanae had always kept to that promise. Which was why Melina was terrified when she returned home one night to find the house empty. Her first thought was that someone had broken in and taken her daughter. But the fireplace was still cold with ashes from last night, she had noticed as she went to light it, and there were no signs of a struggle inside or outside the house. Hanae simply hadn't returned. Perhaps it might have taken Hanae longer than expected to find all the herbs, but she knew she shouldn't be outside when it became dark. She knew.

Melina's mind flooded with the worst possible scenarios. Where was she? What happened to her? Was she lost? Was she taken? Was she hurt? Melina didn't know what to do. Should she stay here? Should she go out and look for her? She wouldn't even know where to start. Not knowing… it was terrifying.

"Mother!"

Relief flooded her when she saw her daughter again. Her hood had slipped off, but she didn't seem to have noticed as she bounded towards Melina. Melina rushed to her daughter and demanded an explanation.

"Hanae! Where were you? You should have been back hours ago!"

Her daughter's eyes shifted to the ground with guilt.

"I… I heard this song and… and… it was so beautiful Mother, I… I'm sorry."

A song? She had been distracted by a song? She could have been caught and sold into slavery. She could have been seriously hurt, abused or worse, killed. And yet she let herself be distracted by a song? A thousand thoughts crossed Melina's mind simultaneously.

"Are you angry with me?"

But at least she was safe. That was all that mattered. Melina pulled her daughter to her in a tight hug. She was safe. Melina brushed away the strands of red that had fallen over Hanae's face as she made sure her daughter promised to never stay out so late again. Eventually though, she had to let go. There were always other matters to tend to. Hanae gave her the bag of materials she had asked her to get, and the few coins left from her purchases. She had managed to get everything. Even the laishaberries that couldn't have been easy to find at this time of year. Her heart smiled.

Then Hanae timidly handed her a clump of wood and string. It was a lyre. Or at least used to be. As Melina examined the pitiful instrument, she realised. Whoever had been playing this instrument and had so thoroughly enraptured her daughter that she had forgotten all of Melina's warnings, was no ordinary person. The lyre might have been broken, but the carvings on the wood were so intricate that no human woodworker could hope to replicate. It was clearly the work of magic. And for someone to be able to have something like this in their possession… Whoever this musician had been, they were very powerful. Melina thanked the stars above that Hanae had not caught their eye. If… someone like that decided they wanted her daughter… nothing Melina could do would get her back.

"Can you… fix it, Mother?"

Melina had never had much magic herself. She hadn't even known it was possible for her until _he_ showed her. But elves were innately magical, and she had always suspected Hanae took after her father in that respect. Maybe when she was a bit older and they had saved up enough money, they could find Hanae a teacher. But for now, at least there was something she could still teach her. Mending wasn't just for fixing clothes after all.

* * *

But the further Melina travelled and enquired, the more she began to believe that perhaps the half-elven city was just a story and didn't really exist. Or that even if it did, it would not be the utopia she had imagined. The other elven subraces held just as much disdain for the drow, maybe even more so. Perhaps they would not be openly hostile, but Hanae would still never be accepted as one of them. Even among outcasts, she would still be outcast.

And this constant pushing, this constant drive to reach that city, that perhaps impossible ideal, this wasn't the life she wanted for her daughter. She couldn't give Hanae the stability she deserved like this. She wanted to settle down and spend time with her daughter. How could she have forgotten? Living in the present, enjoying every day as it happens, that had always been what she believed in.

 _As long as we're together_ , she thought. _Everything will be alright as long as we're together._

Hanae had grown up into the loveliest little girl. She was painfully shy, Melina blamed herself for not giving Hanae more time to play with other children when she was younger, but she had a good heart. Melina couldn't help but feel her heart swell with love whenever she saw those bright, lavender eyes. It always brought a smile to her face, and she couldn't resist smothering her daughter with the love she deserved.

"My beautiful girl," she said, as she often did.

"You are as beautiful as always, Mother," Hanae would respond.

Melina had to admit, sometimes it still hurt to see her daughter. But with every smile, every laugh, that pain lessened. The city could wait. Right now, she wanted to be with her daughter and live. So they slowed down. And Melina began looking for a place to settle.

Maybe they would find that city one day. But they would get there when they get there. And even if it didn't turn out like what they had envisioned, it would not matter. What they already had would be enough.

* * *

It was summer when they moved to Everkeep. It wasn't a very big place, but the main streets were paved, and the houses were sturdy. It had been by a stroke of luck that Melina had met a man who had recently moved closer to the village centre and was willing to rent his old house to her for a fair price.

The people were a little cautious, such was the nature of Melina's profession, but she was sure that with a bit of time she could win them over.

As they stood in front of what would hopefully be their new home, Melina couldn't help the smile that grew inside her.

"I think we can stay here for a while."

The next day, Melina suggested that Hanae go outside and make some friends with the other children. Melina still had a lot of work to do around the house, but first she helped Hanae apply the paints to her skin. It was wiser to be a little more cautious at first. These people didn't know them just yet. But hopefully they would soon see what a sweet girl Hanae was. And maybe then, Hanae wouldn't need the dyes or paints anymore.

Hanae was a little apprehensive as usual, but Melina reassured her daughter that everything would be fine.

"It's alright, sweetheart. Go and play."

She wanted Hanae to freely be a child for once. She had been through enough.

After seeing Hanae off, Melina hummed as cleaned and Mended and made note of the areas that needed more fixing. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly optimistic that they could have a good life here. She worked through the day and well into the afternoon. She was in the middle of washing clothes when a bad feeling seized up inside her. It scared her, but she dismissed it. She needed to relax. She was just worrying too much, as usual. She finished washing and hung out the clothes on the clothesline she had just constructed. It was warm enough that they'd be dry before nightfall.

She was just about to start cooking dinner when she heard her daughter's voice. It was then that she knew something was wrong. Nothing could have prepared her for the shock of seeing Hanae stumble through the door, calling out for her in desperation, half-covered in blood and tears, paint and dyes washed away. Her first worry was that Hanae had been hurt and she quickly checked over her. It had always been difficult to see bruises on her skin, but over the years, Melina had learnt to recognise the signs. Hanae was covered in them, scrapes and cuts too, but thankfully no broken bones, and no internal damage. Hanae could barely speak through her crying, but Melina managed to make out the story. She had been found out by other children and had been beaten up. And somewhere during that, a knife was involved, and one of the other children had been seriously injured.

They needed to leave. Melina was surprised at how calm she felt as she told Hanae to clean up, patch up and pack up. Hanae begged her to save the boy and Melina reassured her everything would be alright. As she made her own preparations, Melina couldn't help but notice how surreal it all felt. It felt like she was walking through a dream. A dream she already knew the ending to. As she picked up her medical supplies and stepped out of this house for the last time, some part of her already knew. This would be the end of her story.

Not too long later, she found the alleyway Hanae had described to her. The metallic scent in the air was unmistakeable.

The boy's hair was soaked with his own blood, and he was struggling to breathe. Another woman was keeling by his side, crying, screaming. The boy's mother. Melina felt her heart pain for the mother and child. But there was no time to waste.

"Please stand aside. I am trying to save him."

The woman refused at first, but then moved back as Melina pulled out bandages to stop the blood loss. Melina worked as quickly as possible. But she knew even before she started that the situation was grim. The boy had lost too much blood, and too much air. As much as she tried, she could not stop the boy's grasp on life from slipping. Soon his haggard breaths slowed, and stopped, and the heat from his body began to fade. His lifeless eyes, frozen in fear, stared up at her accusingly.

It was too late. There was nothing more she could do.

The mother approached her child's lifeless body, eyes blank and voice lost as she crumpled to the ground, cradling the small body to her.

"I'm sorry," Melina whispered. She reached out a hand to offer comfort, but the other woman snapped into focus and pulled away with a sharp jerk.

"No! No, you stay away from us! You let him die you… you witch!"

Her shrill accusations echoed in the air. People were gathering, torches and anger flaring under the darkening sky. There were so many of them.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save him. I…"

Her voice was drowned out by the murmurs and cries that only grew louder and louder. But even if she could be heard, they were not listening. As more and more of the townsfolk gathered, they began to squeeze into a tight circle. They were trapping her in the alleyway. A rough hand seized her arm.

"You are not going anywhere until you face justice for your crimes."

There was no way to avoid this. Melina whispered a silent prayer.

 _Hanae, please. Whatever happens, don't look for me. Stay out of sight. I… I'm sorry I can't protect you from this._

Melina tried again to explain the situation, but she knew how things looked. Regardless of what she said, regardless of what truly happened, a child was dead and Hanae was the one they blamed.

"That freak will only bring us misfortune and ruin!"

"How long before it destroys the whole town? How many more of us have to die?"

"My child! That monster murdered my child!"

"I know I can't imagine the suffering you are going through-"

"I heard she sold her body and soul to the devil himself in exchange for her dark magics."

"Disgusting! How could a woman be so depraved and vile?"

"My son is dead because of you and that demon spawn of yours!"

"I'm sorry I could not do more to save-"

"Silence witch!"

A stinging pain bloomed across her cheek. Her head swam, thoughts scrambled from the impact. Then a voice cut through the haze.

"Mother!"

Dread consumed her. Silence swept through the crowd as they turned towards the sound. Melina looked over the shoulders of angry townspeople to see Hanae standing by the edge of the torchlight. Those wide, lavender eyes flickered between her and the ring of people, fearful and vulnerable. Why did Hanae come here? She was going to be slaughtered! Whatever calm had settled over Melina snapped. The air thick with anger, loss and fear seeped through her skin and squeezed her heart tight.

"Run Hanae!"

That was the last thing she managed to say before she found herself on the ground with a wooden stake through her chest, unable to draw breath. Feet trampled her body, yet she felt nothing. She strained her eyes to catch one last glimpse of her daughter, to see her safe, but already her vision was starting to blur.

 _Please… no… I don't want this to be the last thing my child remembers of me._

They say that when someone dies, their life flashes before their eyes, and they remember everything as though it is happening right now. Their greatest joys, their deepest regrets. But they say that sometimes, people catch a glimpse of another life, one they had yet hadn't lived. Melina saw another life, a life where her daughter's name was Vashenya. She saw herself holding her daughter, _their_ daughter, in her arms. And _he_ was there, smiling with her, looking down at their child, at her, with such love in his eyes. He had stayed.

As her consciousness slipped away forever, a single tear fell from the corner of her eye and made a faint depression in the dust, mixing with the growing pool of red beneath her.

 _Ishmael… did you ever love us? Did you ever… love me?_


	17. Made of Love

**After the events of Kir Sabal, Carmentia and Valerius wrestle the green Tear away from Torrin to prevent it from corrupting him. The Company now heads for Nangalore. (Chronologically between On Caring Too Much and Tears)**

* * *

Made of Love

Of all my time in Chult, what I had experienced in Nangalore was something I could never forget. We were on our way to collect the black orchid, something that would allow us to bring the little prince safely back to Port Nyanzaru. But my heart was heavy. The aarakocra had called us heroes for saving prince Na, but… I didn't feel like one. What kind of hero would fail to save a child's sister? What kind of hero would fail to be there when their friends were hurt? What kind of hero would be so stupid as to overlook the fact that their friends have lied to them time and time again and still make excuses for them anyway? And still call them friends? Tensions in our party were higher than ever, especially now that we were forcibly keeping the green orb from Torrin's possession. I kept telling myself this was for his own good, it would corrupt him otherwise, but… I still felt like a bad friend.

We arrived at Nangalore. It must have been a beautiful place once upon a time, but now it was broken and overgrown. We explored the place, but several close encounters later, the black orchid was still nowhere to be found. Instead, a talking bird found us. Our hosts were awaiting our arrival, he said.

We were brought to a part of the gardens that had remained relatively intact to meet our hosts. A woman who claimed to be the queen of Omu, with the black orchid in her possession, and a drow man, tall and handsome. He was exceedingly polite and had an air about him that put others at ease. But the way he held himself, it was easy to see he was strong, perhaps many times stronger than all of us combined. Still, a gentle smile remained on his face.

Ishmael, he introduced himself. He had been expecting us. While we certainly hadn't been trying to keep ourselves hidden, that was still concerning. I was, however, curious. I hadn't met many drow before, and the ones I had met were… less than hospitable.

He invited me to an evening walk in the gardens. It was… strange. I couldn't read him. I knew he knew far more than he let on, but in many ways, I felt the truth in his words. He was charming, respectful, and he betrayed no ill intentions… my mind still screamed at me to be careful. I had been hurt too many times before, by my own companions, by people I thought I could trust. People whose hearts I couldn't change, and in my naivete, I had been too blind to see. But my heart…

When he told me his story, I felt his sorrow, his regret. He had lived for so long, experienced so much. Suffered so much pain. He was tired, so very tired. But he was still here. Perhaps it was because of our shared drow ancestry, and the things we had been through because of it, but I felt the threads of connection intertwine. We understood each other. And I felt… safe.

Eventually he told me about the rainbow orb he possessed. I warned him to be careful, but I sensed he already knew far more about it than I did. Eventually I told him about our quest to end the Death Curse. He promised he would help us. I was wary, but he only smiled at me, and assured me everything would work out in the end.

He came to us a few hours later, rainbow Tear in hand. Our little fresco for the black orchid, and a thousand pieces of gold. But of course, he wanted to commune with the Tear in our possession. And Kulak, ever the shrewd businessman, asked for communion with his Tear in return, for two of us.

Despite Torrin's protests, the Tear was handed over to Ishmael. He held the green orb for a few moments, then smiled and returned it to Kulak's waiting hands. It was enlightening, he said.

It was only when I let out a sigh of relief that I realised I had been holding my breath.

Kulak then took a hold of the rainbow orb. I waited nervously for the outcome. The seconds stretched on. But eventually, Kulak blinked a few times as his consciousness returned to his body. I watched him carefully. He seemed fine, perhaps more contemplative than usual, but I knew not to trust appearances.

Aulera reached out for it next. I tried to warn her, tell her to exercise caution, but Ishmael held out a hand, stopping her. And then he turned to me.

"I want to show you these Tears are not the evil you imagine them to be."

The Tear I knew had only caused us pain, grief. It had only torn us apart. I wanted nothing to do with these artefacts. But…

I know, it was stupid to trust him so easily, especially after what I had just been through. It seems I never learn. But there was a feeling deep inside me that told me he would never hurt me. And… after everything, I just wanted to believe there were still good people, truly good people in this world.

I reached out to the orb he offered and let myself fall.

* * *

The world around me faded as my consciousness was enveloped in colour, light, warmth. It welcomed me. I felt two presences around me, one as brilliant as the sun, the other as deep as the oceans.

 _What do you live for?_ Their voices whispered.

 _What would you die for?_

 _What would you_ _ **kill**_ _for?_

 _No. I don't want to hurt anyone. Never. Never again._

 _We understand._

As the pressure on my mind eased and the blinding light died down, I found myself in a little room with wooden furniture. Where was I? I looked around. Dried bunches of herbs hung from the corners of the room and the doorframe opposite me. Pressed flowers decorated the walls. A gentle light filtered through the windowpane. The air was filled with a blend of dust and herbs and… I scanned the room, looking for the source of that scent. Then I caught sight of a little bowl of blue-grey blossoms on the windowsill. I felt a smile grow inside me. I was right. Lavender. This place… I had never been in this place before, but it felt, familiar. Then I heard a gentle humming just beyond the door, and a melody that had been lost to me for ten years. That voice…

I ran to the door, it wasn't locked, and I all but barrelled into the next room. I stopped in my tracks. A woman stood in front of the window, with hair that brilliant shade of red. It was her. I never thought I'd see her again.

"Mother!"

She turned around and smiled. She was just as I remembered. Beautiful, strong, and with such kindness in her eyes. I had always been afraid I would forget her face one day. She held out her arms to me. I ran to her, almost tripping over my own feet in my haste, and threw myself into her embrace. I had always thought I would be overjoyed to see Mother again. But being there in her comforting presence, I couldn't help but start to cry. It had been far too long since I had felt love like hers. She just stroked my hair gently as I wept. I felt like a child again.

"I missed you so much Mother."

"I know. I've missed you too Hanae."

I looked up at her and she pulled back slightly from the hug to cup my face in her hands.

"Oh, sweetheart. Look how much you've grown! My beautiful girl!"

I chuckled lightly. "And you are as beautiful as always, Mother," I echoed those familiar words. It had been too long.

It was wonderful seeing her smile again. But it was so jarring with how I remembered her last. It dredged up that well of hurt I had kept at bay, and I couldn't unsee the look of pain and fear on her face the last time I had seen her. When she had still been alive. My own smile faltered.

"Mother, I…"

There were so many things I wanted to say to her.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm sorry. It was my fault. Everything was my fault. If only I hadn't hurt him… then you wouldn't have… you wouldn't have…"

She shook her head.

"Hanae, everything I did, it was because I love you. It was never your fault. Please don't blame yourself anymore."

"I… I'll try."

She studied me for a moment. I tried to smile for her.

"What else is troubling you, sweetheart?"

I never could hide anything from her. Mother always knew me best. So I told her everything. I poured my heart out, and she listened to every word. Finally, I came to where we were now. I looked to her.

"Mother, I… I don't know what to do. I tried to help them be good, I really did, but… they don't want to be."

I hadn't explained what I meant, but I knew she would understand. She always did. She wiped a tear from my cheek.

"Everyone has good in them. They just need to be found. Don't give up hope just yet. You're doing the right thing."

She kissed the top of my head and hugged me close once again.

"Now, go back to your friends okay? Stay strong. Always search for the beauty within."

"Mother…" I didn't want to leave. Not when I had just found her again. I knew it wasn't real. I knew this was just an illusion, created by the entities in the rainbow orb. But even if this was only a beautiful dream, I didn't want it to end.

"It's alright sweetheart. We will see each other again. But in the meantime, go out there. Be happy. Live. That is the greatest comfort you can give me."

It was like losing her all over again. But in the end, I let go.

"Okay," I whispered, wiping my eyes on my sleeve as I tried to keep my voice level.

"I will. I promise." I took a step back and everything began to dissolve into motes of light. My mother smiled at me as she faded into the radiance. Just before she disappeared I called out into the endless space.

"Goodbye, Mother."

"Goodbye, Hanae," her voice echoed in my mind. "Remember I will always love you."

 _I love you too._

* * *

My consciousness eased out of the orb as though waking from a dream. I blinked away the tears from my eyes as I looked up into Ishmael's gentle gaze. Somehow, I knew. He understood. In a moment of impulsiveness, I threw my arms around him.

I knew, it was inappropriate. I had only met Ishmael a few hours earlier after all. But I wanted to thank him, for not betraying my trust, for showing me the light in my darkest moments. For giving me the chance to see her again. For giving me the chance to say goodbye.

He returned my hug. It was… warm. And for just a moment, I felt… loved.


End file.
